Good Fences
by Rebelina11
Summary: Sookie is a young widow trying to deal with the loss of her husband.  Can her new neighbor help her heal?  AH/AU, lots of romance.  Rated M for language and lemons in later chapters.
1. Dream a Little Dream

**Sookie is a young widow trying to deal with the loss of her husband. Can her new neighbor help her heal? AH/AU, lots of romance. Rated M for language and lemons in later chapters.**

**I do not own these characters, they're only keeping me busy.**

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**Chapter 1 – Dream a Little Dream**

A dream was trying to come through… not, not a dream. A nightmare? No… This was a memory. I cringed in my sleep, and I knew I was dreaming, but I couldn't make myself wake up. Not yet. I had to go through it, suffer one more time (how many more times after this one?), before I could escape. This would not be pleasant.

The room was bright with tons of light focused on the one subject, a man. Tubes were coming out of his mouth, his arms, monitors beeping, machines whirring, people talking and moving around him, around his bed. I was standing at the foot, and a doctor was whispering in my ear, asking me something, asking me for something that I did not want to give. "You have to make a decision. What were his last wishes?" I didn't know. No, wait, I did know. I didn't want to be the one to make the decision. But I was the one in charge of the crumpled man in front of me, of either prolonging the life of a soul-less body, or stopping it.

"Take him off life support. I believe he is gone," I said. I knew I should cry, but I couldn't. This is why my dream was a nightmare. I never was able to make myself cry. I couldn't grieve. I wasn't in denial. I almost felt relief. And tremendous guilt, that because I was still this man's wife I was the one in charge of ending his life. I woke up with a start, as I knew I would. The dark room was feeling more familiar, but it wasn't its familiarity or lack thereof that made me feel better. Being awake was the relief I was seeking.

I walked to the kitchen. It was nearly dawn, so there was no use in going back to sleep now… not that I would have been able to. I made some coffee and logged on to my computer to check the overnight emails. On the social networks my friends were complaining about long hours at work, or rowdy children, or bad boyfriends. I didn't feel like complaining about anything. What could I say? I'm a lonely 26-year-old widow? But the pain went deeper and I didn't want to think about it. So I checked the online sales, the coupons, the news… just to pass the time until I knew my mom was awake.

I put on a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt, pulled my waist-length blond hair into a ponytail, put on my walking shoes, fed the cats, grabbed another cup of coffee, and headed next door to my parents' house. This was a much more welcome place to me than my own house. I would live here, if there had been enough room. But my brother already lived here, and the dog… besides, I had three cats. No cats allowed in this house. God! I was a crazy cat lady too!

My mom was awake in her sunny kitchen, doing pretty much what I had been doing: checking emails, drinking coffee. She was already dressed for our daily morning walk, and Baloo the dog was looking at us expectantly. I sat with her. She was absorbed in an email, but smiled in my general direction. Baloo decided to sit against my leg, his head coming up to my thigh. His fur was black as midnight, just like his eyes and his tongue. He was part Chow, or so we thought, and part something else. He was a funny dog, wanting to eat my cats if he saw one at a window, but running the other way if one came close. He also always looked sad, though we knew he wasn't. He was one spoiled doggie. Right now he was eyeing my mom's toast like he knew it was meant for him, which it probably was.

"I'm getting a haircut today," announced my mom, apropos of nothing at all. I knew where she was going with this. She wanted me to consider cutting my hair too. I thought about it for a few seconds and gave her something to look forward to.

"I'll go with you. I think I want to get a trim," I said, sipping my coffee. A little smile started to form on my mom's face, and she looked at me with cautiously optimistic eyes. I could never understand why she wanted me to cut my hair, and she could never understand why I wanted to keep it long. Although I hadn't cut it since I got married four years before.

And then it hit me, as I was thinking about how long I had gone without a haircut. That was exactly what I wanted. I wanted all the dead weight off me, as if getting rid of the extra hair would get rid of the extra guilt.

We walked around our neighborhood silently at first. Baloo was sniffing and peeing on whatever he wanted, so we had to slow down once in a while. As we were almost done with our 2-mile walk (and all our tongues were hanging out, not just the dog's), we saw a moving truck parked in front of my other neighbor's house. If you were to look at our houses, and mine was in the middle, my parents' was on the left, and the new neighbor was moving to my right. The house hadn't spent a very long time on the market… I even considered buying it before I got lucky and mine came on sale as well. It was a coral affair, the color of choice for Southwest Florida. But I hadn't liked it as much as I liked mine. It had a pool: too much work. But it had access to the water, just like every house on this side of the street, so I was sure to get a retired boater for a neighbor. My mom and I were commenting on this when we got in the house, when my dad intercepted us.

"Smitty is saying it's a famous person," he said. My mom and I stared at him like he had two heads. Who was a famous person? "Sookie's new neighbor. He's supposed to be an actor or something," he clarified. My mom and I looked at each other, understanding finally dawning on us. Art Smith, my parents' front neighbor, knew everything and had filled my dad in. Apparently Smitty had connections all over SW Florida. He used to work in the Armed Forces, but never told us in what capacity. My mom, also a retired Federal government worker, guessed he had been a Navy Seal at some point, but nobody knew for sure. All we knew is that he could get information, and liked sharing it.

My brother sauntered out of his room ready for school, a perpetual student. He saw our convergence at the door and looked at us curiously, like we were about to gang up on him.

"My new neighbor is supposedly a famous actor," I filled him in, to put him out of his misery. "And good morning Jason!" I added with a smile. He smiled back and chuckled. "Smitty?" he asked. We all rolled our eyes. It was meant as a confirmation of his suspicions.

I returned home to get rid of the funk I had developed during our walk in the steamy morning. While I was showering (being careful not to get my hair wet) I gave some thought to the beginning of my marriage. Everything seemed pretty ordinary, for newlyweds anyway. We had gotten married at the courthouse because we didn't have money for a big wedding. And then we never seemed to have money for anything at all. But I was told by other married people, that the "not having money" issue was standard for all newlyweds, and that it would only get better. So usually our fights revolved around money, and then that faded as my husband started to make his mark in the police department where he worked. Moving forward in time inside my memories was only going to bring me pain, so I decided to store it all away swiftly in the recesses of my mind, and continue with the task at hand. I focused especially on my wardrobe. I had to discard most of my winter gear in favor of summer things, and even then I had discarded most of my clothes altogether. I had kept only a few standards, and little by little replaced the rest with things that wouldn't carry any memories. So now that I'd finally made up my mind to cut my hair, I was feeling a little guilty, but a little more free. It would be one more thing, one more piece of clothing, one less memory.

"Sookie? Are you ready honey?" my mom asked from the door, as I finished putting on some lipstick. I ran to the front door and we headed out. I was too nervous to drive… so my mom drove, and since it was only the two of us, she took her Mustang. I suddenly felt like I was being driven around by Nancy Drew… except Nancy's driving was too fast. I was alright with it, most of the time, since I drove more or less the same. Except, my Ford sedan couldn't do under my foot what the Mustang could under my mom's. What was the hurry? This was Florida!

"Hi, Charlie! Hi, Sookie!" the receptionist greeted my mom and I as we walked in. She must have been in her 50's, but her very long, straight black hair made her look much younger. Her smile was contagious, and her accent even more so. She was originally from England, and she had a decidedly Welsh accent. It was beautiful because it was unexpected, out of place. Sometimes she drifted into a southern drawl; it was inevitable. She assigned us to our respective hairstylists and I told mine to cut my hair up to my shoulders. My mom shot me a disbelieving look, but didn't dare say anything. She quickly composed herself and looked back at her own reflection.

As we were paying, the receptionist was dishing out the latest gossip. "Did you girls hear about Eric Northman? He's moving to Florida from L.A. Rumors are he's moving to SW Florida, but nobody knows where. Probably Sanibel or Captiva, one would think…," her voice drifted, thinking. My mom and I looked at each other for a half a second, the same spark of intuition lighting up our eyes. But we said nothing. If Smitty had been right and Eric Northman was my new neighbor, the last thing I wanted were midnight vigils in front of his house.

On our way back I started thinking out loud. "Why would Eric Northman buy the house next to mine? It's nothing. It's a little bungalow compared to what he could buy," I mused. I mean, my house was lovely, to me. All our houses were very pretty – for a middle class neighborhood – and chock full of retirees. But they were small: most of them did not exceed three bedrooms. I knew the house next to mine looked exactly like mine inside: white tile floors, white walls, white appliances, one garage, all on one floor. Then my mom came up with a theory.

"Maybe he owns a sailboat. Ours is a sailboat canal. There aren't many of those," she said. I conceded that it could be plausible. Then our love of movies took over the conversation.

"Which movie was he in, recently? I can't remember," my mom asked. She saw many more movies than me and tended to remember only her very favorites, but refused to watch movies more than once. I was like toddler in that respect: if I found a movie I liked, I would watch it over and over until I grew tired of it. By then I would know every character's name, I could recite their lines, and sing along with the soundtrack. What else was there to do when my husband wasn't home…? _And he's never coming back_, I thought to myself.

"I can't remember a recent one. My favorite one of his is _Pride & Prejudice_. He played a great Mister Darcy," I said. It had been one of my favorites a couple of years back. I was remembering Eric Northman in 18th century costume, broad shoulders and muscular legs, and his blond hair dyed light brown for the part. He had looked handsome nevertheless, with his straight and angular features, tall build, and smoldering blue eyes. He was one of the more handsome actors in my view, even though I tended to like tall, dark and handsome, and he was decidedly light. And English.

My mom was staring intently out the windshield when she caught her breath. I followed her gaze but it was just a car in front of us. "I remember the movie!" she announced. "It was the one where he played a vampire. Oh, he was handsome in that one," she said with a sly smile, looking at me without fully turning her head. I knew what she was thinking: if Eric Northman had indeed moved next to me, she was sure to visit him and announce that she had a single daughter of marriageable age. She would never understand that I simply wasn't there yet… would I ever be? After all I'd gone through? I had issues to resolve first, and it had been almost a year since my husband's death. The issues were as fresh a year later as they had been when he had died. I took comfort from the faint memory that told me that Eric Northman was married. I was sort of counting on that, and I didn't even know if he was my neighbor for real.

The moving van was still being unloaded when we got back. I went to show my dad my new haircut. "I'm glad you did it," he said. He meant more than he actually said. My dad always saw more than he let on. He was incredibly deep, but it didn't surface very often. I'm sure he was glad I was free of the psychological weight that my hair had imposed. As was I. I felt amazingly light.

"Smitty hasn't said anything else about the new neighbor?" my mom asked my dad. He shook his head.

"Nah… He says he knows people…," he shook his head again, this time with a grin. "We'll probably find out before him."

"I'm heading to the beach after lunch. Anybody care to join me?" I announced. I certainly wasn't going alone: too many eyes would drift towards me, and there was a chance for some serious hits if I wasn't accompanied. My heart sank when my mom made a face.

"It's supposed to rain in the afternoon," my dad was the one who answered. He was glued to the TV, so I knew he had caught the Weather Channel at some point.

The doorbell made us all jump and the dog bark like a maniac. I was closest, so I got the door. It was my brother's girlfriend, Chris. She was wearing normal clothes, for her. Her incredibly straight blue-black hair was pulled into pigtails, but her face was clean of the usual goth makeup, and I could finally see her features clearly. She was cute without the makeup, with big brown eyes and a pouty mouth. She was wearing a very normal pair of jeans, but the t-shirt gave her away: it had several colorful skulls stamped on it.

"Hi! I just got off school and Jason said to wait here for him. He'll be here in half an hour," she said, as I let her in. This wasn't unusual… I didn't know why she was explaining it to me.

"I have to pick your brain," she continued, looking at me. "I have a paper to write for my Business class, and I will need to interview you," she said to me, putting her book bag in the dining room adjoining the living room. Then she went to sit in the living room to watch TV with my dad. He filled her in on what was going on in the Law & Order rerun he had been watching. This was normal too. If she ever decided to marry my brother (if they ever grew up enough for that), she would just finish moving in. She already belonged. I smiled and shook my head, and went to join my mom outside on the lanai.

"I guess I'll go to buy the plants I wanted then, since the beach is out," I said, almost pouting.

"It's not that we don't want to go… don't you feel the wind? It's starting to pick up. I don't really want you going anywhere, actually. Have lunch, take a nap, watch a movie. That's what I'm gonna do," she said. I winced at the thought of a nap. I didn't want to have more nightmares. They took everything out of me.

"Let's go to my house. We can watch a movie there uninterrupted," I said, nodding towards the Law & Order enthusiasts sitting in her living room. She smiled and followed me to my house. I made sandwiches for lunch, and she started to choose a movie from the internet queue.

"Let's see this Eric Northman in action," she mumbled, mostly to herself. I shook my head as I brought our sandwiches to the living room. We sat at either end of my reclining sofa, our sandwiches on our laps and our drinks in between us. Tippy the cat came to sit behind my head and purr in my ear. The other two cats were sleeping away the day somewhere, unseen. The movie my mom picked came to life on my TV. It was the vampire movie she had talked about.

Eric Northman was ethereal. He was playing a pale vampire, but other than his ashen skin color he was absolutely beautiful. His smile was white and perfect. His hair was a beautiful shade of corn silk, which made me wonder if it was his real hair color. In the movie they showed as much of his naked body as they could in a PG-13 movie, and he was sinuous. His expressions were careful, and perfect for the character. I didn't like that they had covered his blue eyes with red contacts. Nevertheless, I had always liked his acting, but now that there was a possibility that he was my neighbor, I watched closer. When he moved slowly, deliberately, he was mesmerizing. When his character had to pick up the pace, when he moved with purpose, he looked stunning. His lines were delivered with always a hint of what I perceived to be his own real mannerisms: a twitch of his neck muscles when his character was upset, a dashing look when his character was being persuasive. I studied him, looking again at the beautiful actor, my would-be neighbor.

And then my mind drifted… REALLY? Eric Northman as my neighbor? In what kind of backwards world did I think I lived in? There was no possible way that this was true. It was just a coincidence that Eric Northman was moving to Florida, and some retiree had purchased the house next to mine, at the same time. And it wasn't even that big of a coincidence. Smitty had it wrong. He was getting old, maybe even senile. First of all, I didn't have that kind of luck. I had the kind of luck that ruined marriages. I had the kind of luck that made me lose my husband while we were in the middle of a marital crisis of epic proportions. I had bad luck. And then, supposing that Eric Northman HAD moved to the house next to mine, so what? He was married, so his wife was moving in with him. I was almost positive that he was married. And besides, actors were snobs.

My door opened suddenly and Tippy ran for her life, jumping over my empty plate and darting to one of the bedrooms. It was Chris, her face red.

"You have to come with us tonight," she said, plopping down on one of my empty armchairs.

"Where are we going again?" I asked. I had obviously missed something.

"You're coming to Jason's concert. You've been putting it off, but you have to come with us tonight."

"Why?" I asked, arching one brow. Both of them knew I wasn't a fan of death metal. At all.

"Because you haven't gone out since you came here. Besides, you have to make use of the brand new haircut you just got yourself. It will be more fun than you think! I'll give you earplugs…" she said with an angelic smile, fluttering her lids as if she'd been talking to my brother instead of me. I sighed and thought about it… well, the going out part anyway. Not that I'd been much of a party-goer in my formative years, and I never went anywhere while married. Maybe this could be another one of those things. The shedding of another layer.

"Okay, I'll go. But I'm taking my own car. I wanna be able to escape," I said sighing again.

"Great. I'll be back at 7 to make you presentable," then she paused, looking at the TV. "That guy looks familiar," she mused to herself. She seemed to do that a lot. "I'll see you," and she bounded out just as quickly as she'd come in. My mom was looking at me, a cross between skepticism and pain evident on her face.

"You don't have to go out if you don't want to," she said.

"No, I should go. I've been promising Jason that I would go to either a show or a practice. I figure the show will be less painful. They're done with the practicing by then," I smiled, trying to mean it.

The sky began to darken by now. I ran outside to pick up my mail before the sky could open up and swallow me whole. I noticed the moving truck was gone from my new neighbor's house. In its place was an incredibly luxurious car. I knew a little about cars, but this wasn't one I'd seen before. So I ran to get my dad, who knew more. He came with me, just as curious as I had expected, a low whistle forming in his mouth as he got closer. We stared at the beautiful dark gray sedan with the tinted windows.

"If your neighbor isn't famous, he sure has money. That's a Maserati. I've only seen them online… No, I take that back. I saw one years ago in Connecticut, on our way to Cape Cod. But that one was older. This one is either last year's model or this year's," he mumbled most of what he said, taking in the beautiful car. It was a good thing nobody came out from that house while we were gawking. I hadn't seen a Maserati before, but I had certainly heard of them.

A low peal of thunder interrupted our mesmerized staring, and my mom made her way outside too, heading to her own house.

"Let me get home before I get trapped in yours," she said, as she hugged and kissed me.

I dumped the mail on my kitchen table and grabbed a glass of water. I figured I'd try to take a nap before I had to get ready, since I felt so exhausted from having nightmares. Besides, the electricity was bound to go out during the storm. The wind started picking up and the thunder got closer. My three cats, Tippy, Buddy, and Salty made it to my bed and lay on the empty spots around me. I closed my eyes and woke up a second later, to the sound of my doorbell. I glanced at the clock at it was 7 in the evening. I had slept that whole time without noticing. I didn't know I had fallen asleep at all. I did not feel altogether rested, but at least I hadn't had a nightmare. I let Chris in, who was laden with a makeup case, and several items of clothing. She seemed ready for business.

"Go wash your face. I need a clean slate. You have eye boogers," she smiled wickedly. When I came back to my bedroom, she had laid out several costumes on my bed.

"I didn't know if you'd fit into my clothes, so I brought several things to see which ones would be more comfortable for you," she said. She wasn't calling me fat. I was probably only one size bigger than her, but she was so petite I just couldn't see myself fitting into anything she owned. The first item I held up looked the scariest, so I decided what the heck, I'll try it on. It was a vest with a zipper up the front, very black, lots of cleavage. I was able to fit into it, what with it being made of stretchy fabric, but I felt utterly exposed. My boobs were very much in evidence, and my belly button peeked from underneath. I grabbed a pair of pants, and these too looked like they should fit like second skin.

"Hang on, hang on… I need a different pair of panties for these," I said, holding up the pants. I was going to need a thong or something. I put the pants on after a little struggle, but I was in. Chris's answering smile was approving… and then it faded.

"Please tell me you have black heels or something," she said. I hadn't thought of footwear, but I dug in my closet anyway and came up with a suitable pair. Then she started on my makeup. She already had her outfit on. It was a mesh shirt that showed her black bra underneath. I felt better covered in mine than I would have in her outfit. She had some very tight pants as well, but instead of heels like mine she had boots… scary tall boots. Her foot was flat in them, but she was as tall as me in heels thanks to the 4 inch platform. My brother walked in on us when Chris was almost done with my makeup. We'd been at it for almost an hour.

"Whoa, sis! You look wicked," he said. I took it as a compliment. Chris finished applying my lipstick and turned to Jason. Apparently he needed makeup too, since he was going to be onstage. His clothes were a little more conventional: a t-shirt with a skull, black pants, and even scarier boots than Chris's. These were massive, and they had tons of buckles. They made him look humongous, since he was already six feet tall. He was sitting at the edge of my bed so she would be able to apply some eye makeup. Aww… I thought… My little brother: all grown up and already wearing makeup. I suppressed a laugh and settled for a chuckle. Jason heard it.

"I'll be onstage. You can't even tell I have makeup on, unless I don't. It's a perception thing," he said, by way of explanation. I remembered that actors on stage would wear excessive makeup to highlight their features. From the audience they looked normal, but up close they looked like clowns.

I was going to follow them to the venue. We were going to be early, but we were with the band, so it would be okay. I glanced once at the neighbor's driveway. The Maserati wasn't there anymore. I hoped my neighbor had the good sense to hide it in his garage by now. This was a quiet neighborhood, but a car like that was bound to attract attention nevertheless.

Why was I so obsessed? I asked this of myself while I was alone in my car. Was it because there was the possibility, however minimal, that my new neighbor was famous? I mean, famous or not all I had a right to hope for was a nice person living next to me, and the odds of that were in my favor. And famous people were people too. I needed a hobby.

I was introduced to the members of my brother's band. I had heard of all of them but had never met them in person. I fell into a nice conversation with the keyboard player, John Quinn, who liked to be called by his last name. I was amazed by the fact that this kind of music necessitated a piano player. Quinn was kind enough to show me why. Of course, that involved listening to some of their music. The music itself was actually very interesting to me, what with my usually eclectic tastes. But I couldn't get over the noise the singer was making. It ruined my favorite part: the singing. I loved to sing along with all kinds of songs, and I couldn't do that with death metal.

"I'm so happy Chris talked you into coming," commented Quinn, shooting me a quick smile. He was less scary than my brother. His head was completely shaved, but it suited him. His eyes were a strange shade of purple, and they were clear of makeup, since he wasn't a front man. He was also an otherwise interesting person. He worked as an Events Planner in Fort Myers, which wasn't interesting in and of itself, but an interesting juxtaposition considering what he did at night.

"So, what do you do?" he asked me curious. I guessed that my little bro hadn't wanted to divulge my personal life, since it wasn't his story to tell. That had been very nice on his part: even though he was the little brother, he was still protective. But it put me in an almost uncomfortable position now (though how could my brother have known that I was _this_ mental?) that I had to answer this question. I bit my lip and thought of something appropriate.

"I used to do Human Resources before I moved here," I answered. I didn't want to say the truth unless absolutely necessary: that I didn't know what to do with myself and I didn't want to go back to the world of 9 to 5, not just yet.

"That's actually very cool. You have to be extremely well-organized to keep up with all the laws that affect labor," he said. I was impressed, and relieved that he didn't push the issue about my actual present doings.

The concert was everything I had expected, but thank goodness it wasn't any worse. I did put in earplugs because we were standing so close to the stage. I tried to concentrate on the music, rather than my brother's singing (or screaming). One of these days he'd have to give me the lyrics to his songs so I could understand what he was saying. The people around us behaved rather well, which made me feel better about maybe coming back to another concert, to show support at least. At the end of the concert (I couldn't believe I had made it!) we all went to a nearby diner. Quinn sat next to me. I knew where this was heading… he was admiring, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I also didn't want to discourage him. The attention felt nice, and he was a nice guy.

"You should definitely come over to one of our practices. You'll get a chance to hear me play something other than metal, maybe," he said, knowing I'd be enticed.

"I'd like that," I couldn't help but saying. He startled me when he rearranged a strand of hair that had fallen on my face. That had always been my job, but to have someone else do it, and a cute guy, it felt odd in a nice way.

"This is great. Do you want to try it?" Quinn asked me, pointing at his dish. It looked like a sinfully decadent bread pudding. Again with the juxtapositions. I did try it, caramel dripping out of my mouth. I could always be counted upon to spill something, if there was something that could be spilled. He wiped my lip with his napkin… again, my job. But he did it so delicately… I was unnerved to say the least. I hadn't gotten this kind of attention since well before I had married. Quinn kissed me on the cheek as we were saying goodbye, and asked for my cell phone number. I was glad to give it to him. He made me feel interesting again… and holy God! But I was half spilling out of my clothes! No wonder he liked me so much! But he was cute, and I was enjoying his attention in particular. He liked talking to me, and I to him. He was easygoing, and seemed to sense which subjects were off limits. I wish more people were like that.

My brother followed me home then continued on to drop off Chris at hers. My neighbor was unloading groceries. It was a bit late for that, but I knew of at least one 24-hour Wal-Mart nearby, so I guessed that's where he had gone. I couldn't see him properly from inside the car, and I wasn't going to linger staring after him. I could tell he was a tall man with light long hair, but the hair could have been gray instead of blond. It was too dark to tell. I hurried inside my own house, not sure whether he had seen me or not.

I gave myself one more look in my bedroom mirror before getting ready for bed. I looked way too sexy for my comfort. Chris had done my makeup heavily but still it looked quite nice. Nevertheless, it was nothing I could do to myself with any degree of success. And the clothes had me showing about the same amount of skin I showed at the beach, so that didn't bother me as much as having my boobs hiked up to my chin by the tight vest. Oh, well… I sighed as I peeled the clothes off. I decided to take a quick shower to wash off the sweat and makeup. I fell asleep fast; it was almost three.

I went running to my parents' house the next morning, crying and still in my PJ's. I was almost hyperventilating when I handed my mom the letter I had found in the mail from the day before, the mail I had ignored. She read it quickly and passed it to my dad. Then she hugged me, which made me cry that much harder. My brother woke up with the commotion and ran to the kitchen too.

"What? What happened," he asked upset.

"Those stupid people. Why can't they just live their lives and move on?" my dad answered, handing the letter to Jason. He read it, his eyes widening as he made it down the page.

"I know some people…" he said, trailing off.

The letter was from my mother in law, ex-mother in law, whatever: Lorena Compton. She was calling me every name she could think of, plus a few more, because I didn't give her any money from my husband's life insurance or from when I sold the house. She didn't know that there was none left. I had sold the house at a loss, which was covered by the life insurance, a pittance after having to pay for the funeral. And now I was living off my own savings while I reorganized my life.

My dad took the letter from Jason and folded it back up carefully. It wasn't the first one I had gotten, but this one was a bit more violent than the others. And my dad was keeping careful track. I was so glad to be back living close to my parents. Who except them would see me through this? Plus, my ex-mother in law was too far away in Louisiana to come after me in person down here in Florida.

My mom sat me down and thrust a cup of coffee in my hands. I sipped it like the English sip their tea. My brother sat next to me and put his hand on my arm. "We're here," he said, and I knew what he meant. This guaranteed me a nightmare tonight, though. Oh, well…

My parents indulged me and we all went to the beach. Even my brother came along, which was unusual for him. It was a Saturday. He usually spent the day recovering from the night before and playing World of Warcraft. He recovered at the beach instead, falling asleep as soon as he set his towel on the sand. I went swimming. The guys looking at me in my bathing suit didn't bother me too much. I knew they would think my brother was my boyfriend or something (though we both looked exactly alike) and wouldn't dare talk to me. That was the main reason I didn't go to the beach by myself. Too many men ogling who wanted to talk to me.

The beach always had a calming influence on me. We were a water-loving family. My parents had a boat, we all enjoyed the pool and loved the beach. This beach was typical of the ones on the Gulf Coast of Florida: warm, clear, and the sand was light and fine like talcum powder. Delicious. We left after a couple of hours. We usually came to the beach to relax, not to sunbathe, so a couple of hours was plenty of time to work up an appetite. And for me, it was enough to calm me down and make me put the letter away in the recesses of my mind that I didn't want to visit. After a few hours under the sun, the house felt too cold, so we all sat in the lanai to eat our lunch.

My parents' lanai, just like mine, looked over at the canal. My parents' boat was up on its lift, completely off the water. I looked over at my house, which had a retaining wall against the canal, but no dock and no lift. I glanced farther down at my new neighbor's yard, which had a small dock jutting out across the whole retaining wall. No lift. It was definitely meant for a sailboat, but there was no sailboat either. It might be that the neighbor was having his boat brought in, or maybe he was like me, boat-less. Maybe he just liked that house for the pool. Then I looked at my yard again, which was looking a little sad with its lack of plants, compared to my parents' yard which had a mini-jungle running around the whole lanai.

"I think I'll go ahead and get some plants today," I announced. I needed busy work. A long stroll at the nursery and some digging afterwards would feel good and productive. It was either planting outside or painting my living room, and I had to plant during the warmer months. Even in Florida it could get cold during the winter months. I would get around to painting in November… maybe. For now, I would enjoy the warm, thunderstorm-prone June weather.

And so I did. I bought a couple of hibiscus plants, some impatiens for my shaded areas next to the front door, a gardenia, and some frondy things that would fill in the gaps between the flowering plants. When I got home I threw myself into my project. It was still early in the afternoon, so I had a few hours still before dinner. I began digging the area in front on my windows, which was barren. There must have been plants there at one time, because it was marked off separate from the lawn. But whoever owned the house before me had either let them die or pulled them out. I soon found out it was the former. I encountered dead roots as I was trying to dig, and it was becoming harder and harder to dig them out, to dig period! I used every ounce of strength I had and abused the shovel in my hands, and the helplessness of it made me start tearing up again. It didn't even occur to me to call upon my dad or my brother for help. I just slammed the shovel into the earth over and over, at one point I growled.

"Do you need help?" asked a quiet man's voice behind me. I was so startled that I tripped and fell on my butt as I tried to wheel around. It was actually quite painful in the embarrassment department, and it made a few more tears flow freely.

"I'm so sorry! Here," he reached for me, not waiting for me to reach out a hand. He came around from behind me and scooped me up under my arms, like you would a child. Then he turned me around to look at me, his long hands holding me by the shoulders. I was surprised, to say the least. This had to be my neighbor, and he was breathtaking. He had a slight resemblance to Eric Northman, alright. But he was way more handsome than any man I'd ever seen, ever.

"Are you okay? I didn't mean to startle you," he said, concern in his eyes. I couldn't answer anything but shook my head. Then I remembered I'd been crying and started to wipe my cheeks.

"Oh, no, love, don't do that. Now you're all dirty," he said, a gentle smile that matched his gentle words forming in his beautiful face. He reached in his pocket for a handkerchief. Who carried handkerchiefs anymore? He wiped my face himself, since he had clean hands. His handkerchief smelled wonderful of whatever cologne he used. "There. All clean. Are you okay?" he repeated. I suddenly remembered I hadn't answered.

"Stubborn roots… I'm okay," I mumbled by way of explanation.

"There's no need to cry over roots. I'll be right back," he said, eyeing me one more time to make sure I wasn't about to cry again before he half ran to his garage. He emerged with a pick half a minute later.

"This ought to do the job. Let me help you," he said, reaching my garden and taking the right stance to swing the pick above his head. I stepped back and watched him hack my garden to bits. I was speechless. The more I looked at him (and listened to his soft English accent) the more I knew this was the actor who everyone had been expecting. It seemed that Eric Northman was indeed my new neighbor. But this person in front of me, who was starting to sweat over my garden, was so much different than what I'd been expecting. Granted, the last time I saw his face he'd been playing a vampire, but in real life he looked so _real_, not ethereal anymore but unbelievable nevertheless. I tried not to stare, but it was hard. He finally turned to me, a wide smile on his face.

"May I borrow that shovel?" he pointed to my hand. I handed it to him, and our fingers touched. I knew I had to say something before he thought I was a nut… I wasn't completely convinced that I wasn't nuts, but I couldn't let him on.

"Thank you for your help. I guess I got a bit… overly… frustrated," I said. I honestly didn't know what else to say. I was speechless and felt awkward for all the obvious reasons.

"No problem, love. What are neighbors for? I'm Eric," he said, suddenly stopping and offering his hand. He smiled and I had to smile back. I took his hand, which was now as dirty as mine and held it tight.

"I'm Sookie Stackhouse. Nice to meet you."

"I guess you know who I am," he said, studying my face for a second. It wasn't a question.

"Yes," I started carefully. "Everyone within a 30-mile radius knew you were moving to this side of Florida. But I'll keep the secret. I don't want people camping on my lawn to get a glimpse of you," I said, trying to keep myself together. I added a smile to make sure he understood I was not upset about having him as a neighbor. And right now, helping me as he was, I really was very happy and grateful.

He chuckled in response. "And here I thought I was being slick by choosing a quiet neighborhood," he said, returning to his work with the shovel. "I thought everybody that lived here was retired, and yet here you are. I'm happy about that, though. Somebody my age… it's nice to know," he said. He must have been a couple of years older than me, but I knew what he meant.

"But I am retired," I said, keeping the tone light. And, well, at least for the next few months I would be acting like a retired person. He looked at me incredulously, and I had to laugh a little.

"Just kidding. I'm not the only young person here, though. My brother lives next door with my parents and his friends come over all the time. But we're not usually nosy people around here, except Smitty," I said, pointing to my parent's front door neighbor.

"Point taken. I'll stay away from him," he said, nodding towards Smitty's house. He had been staring at me since I had laughed. I started to feel uncomfortable but not in a creepy way… more like the way I felt when an extremely good looking man, who clearly wasn't meant for me, looked at me with any kind of interest. He was probably thinking I was nuts, crying one second and laughing the next. At least that's what I told myself.

"I think we're ready for some plants," he said. He had already made the largest hole, the one meant for the large gardenia that was sitting patiently by my car.

"I assumed this is where you'd want it. Gardenias tend to attract ants, so you wouldn't want it too close to your door," he said. I nodded and mmm-hmmm'd. That's all I could manage after his stare. He expertly planted my gardenia, and continued planting to its left, while I planted to its right. We were done in half an hour. We had worked in mostly silence.

"Can I offer you something to drink? I have a pitcher of fresh lemonade, local lemons…" I said. I honestly didn't know how to be a hostess to someone like him. But he smiled pleasantly and followed me in the house. I offered him the use of my spare bathroom for his dirty hands, while I washed mine in my kitchen sink. By the time he came back I was setting down a tall glass of lemonade on my kitchen table, in front of a chair. I was hoping he'd stay and talk, if only to hear his smooth voice form the words in his gentle accent.

"Thank you," he said, sitting down with a sigh. "Now I feel like I accomplished something today. I was actually quite bored. Thanks for letting me help," he smiled at me another sincere smile and sipped his lemonade. He seemed to be a smiley kind of person. I liked that.

"I appreciate the help more than you know," I said, looking down at my hands wrapped around my own glass of lemonade.

"Why were you crying? Surely not because of the roots…" he asked, his voice gentle again. There was a hint of curiosity, but not the mean kind. He seemed truly concerned. So maybe he wasn't a snob… I dared to hope.

"It's a long and painful story," I answered. When I looked at him he didn't say anything. He would not press for information that I didn't want to give. But his face was open and I couldn't resist sharing a little bit.

"I lost my husband almost a year ago. He was a police officer, we lived in Louisiana. He was involved in a high-speed chase. He lost control of the car he was driving, and they couldn't… I was left to make the decision to take him off the machines. He died at the accident. His body was being kept alive by machines…" I trailed off. If I had been the proper grieving widow, this story wouldn't have been so hard to tell.

"What was his name?" Eric asked. His face full of understanding that I wasn't expecting.

"Bill Compton," I answered, looking down again. He put a finger under my chin to bring my face up, so he could look in my eyes again.

"And you miss him…" he guessed. At this I flinched. I did not miss my husband, at all. If I did, I wouldn't have felt guilty. It was the guilt that was eating me alive. Even though my face was up, I looked down, almost closing my eyes. I could see his hand under my face. He dropped it only to place it gently on my arm.

"I lost my wife two years ago. I understand."

Shock ran through my system. I wasn't expecting that at all. I looked up, eyes wide. I didn't know how to respond to a truly grieving partner. Was he going to freak like I just had? But his eyes seemed clear, resigned almost.

"She suffered a concussion while skiing. Her brain swelled slowly. Nobody knew until it was too late. She fainted a few hours later, and never woke up," he said. This time he was the one who looked down. "The first year was very bad," he continued. "I threw myself into my work, and that seemed to help, but not as much as I thought. Eventually you tell yourself it was their time to go, and it's your turn to let them go on to their next thing, whatever it is," he said. He looked back at me, his eyes sad but he seemed otherwise okay.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know," I said stupidly. As if I kept up with all the famous actors' lives. Right. I could barely keep up with my own life. That's how all the bad stuff had gone unnoticed. He didn't understand my expression, but this part of my story was not something I felt compelled to share with my new neighbor. It was embarrassing, to say the least. He was the first one to change the subject, sensing the point at which I would stop talking was right about now.

"This is very delicious lemonade. You said they were local lemons?" he asked. It wasn't a subtle change in subject, but I could sense he was trying his best. Definitely not a snob. He was truly trying to make me feel better.

"Your neighbor grew these actually," I pointed to a bowl in the middle of the table. It held two more lemons.

"Wait. These are lemons?" he asked, grabbing one. They were the size of grapefruits, and the right color. Unless one examined them and noticed the subtle oval shape of a lemon, one would automatically think of them as unripe grapefruits.

"I cannot get used to this place. This morning I saw an alligator in the canal, and yesterday there was an eagle perched on a light pole across the street!" he said, shaking his head.

"The alligator is back? Hmmm…" I mused. I was a little more used to the wildlife here already, having heard all of my mom's stories of her walks with Baloo, and seen what I'd seen in the past few months, but I understood his shocked expression.

"You mean that alligator has been seen before?" he asked. He wasn't panicking. He was amazed, his eyes wide like a little kid's.

"Oh, yeah. We have a regular zoo back there," I said pointing to the canal. "I've seen the eagle before too. She likes that pole. I think she's waiting for Smitty's dog to come out on its own. It's a small yappy thing," I added. He laughed and I laughed with him.

"I wonder what else I'll encounter," he mused.

"Do you have a boat?" I asked. I knew there wasn't one there yet, but it could be on its way.

"Yes I do. A sailboat. Why?" he asked, pleased at the turn the conversation had taken, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"When you take it out, wherever you're in clear waters, you will see manatees. We see them all the time at this one beach that's close to the mouth of the gulf," I said. He smiled and whispered "manatees," mostly to himself.

"You'll have to come with me and show me the beach when my boat gets here," he said to me, looking at me intently again, like he had done in the garden earlier. My uncomfortable feeling was interrupted by a loud sound of complain coming from my stomach.

"Whoa! I'm sorry. I forgot the time," I said, apologizing for my misbehaving gut.

"I did too. I apologize," he said, standing up. He had finished his lemonade completely and walked his empty cup to the sink. He seemed like he was about to wash it too, so I stopped him, though I was touched by the gesture.

"That goes in the dishwasher," I said pointing to it sheepishly.

"Oh, right. I forget," he said, mirroring my expression. He did open the dishwasher and put it in, then reached for my glass and put that one in too. After he closed it he turned to me with a serious expression.

"Not that I'm an expert, but I've been through it too. So if you need a sympathetic ear, I'm right next door, okay? Or if you need help abusing your garden, I'm available for that too," he said, turning his tone light. He gave me another gentle smile and squeezed my shoulder gently. For an English person, he sure liked to touch people. Maybe he just liked to touch me, I thought to myself, but quickly put that thought out of my mind. I didn't need that kind of complication: unrequited love.

**A/N: So… what do y'all think? Should I keep going? This is my first attempt at AH.**


	2. Just a Little Crush

**A/N: **I already had some of the story written, therefore the fast update. I only needed the courage to post it. I must thank all the reviewers of my other story – Alive After Dark – who gave me the courage I needed. Here goes nothing…

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**Chapter 2 – Just a Little Crush**

I headed to my parents' for dinner. Outside the house it smelled delicious, inside even more so. Homemade lasagna, one of my many favorites. My afternoon antics surfaced during dinner.

"You growled at the roots?" Jason asked. Leave it up to my brother to pick up on the bizarre rather than the extraordinary. I didn't forget to leave out my crying bout. They didn't need to be more concerned about my bizarre behavior than they already were.

"It was very nice of him to help, very nice. Why didn't you come get me?" my dad asked. There was that concern I was fretting about in his voice.

"I was about to come get you, Dad, but Eric showed up before I followed through," I said. I guess I could have sent Eric away and dealt with my madness by myself, but when he found me I was having coherency issues; which had been made worse by his very presence.

"He owns a sailboat," I told my mom, recalling an earlier conversation. She nodded knowingly.

"He does? Very nice, very nice," said my dad approvingly. He had a motorboat instead of a sailboat, but enjoyed sailboats just the same, and had great respect for their owners.

"So why did he move here? Why not a nicer neighborhood?" my mom asked curious. It was a good thing Eric had answered this very question before she, or me, even asked it.

"He said he wanted to move to a quiet neighborhood. He was expecting a bunch of retirees, and was genuinely taken aback to have found me. But I told him we weren't nosy, and I warned him about Smitty," I said, looking at my brother in particular.

"I don't talk to that nut, Dad does," Jason said defensively. "But I'll keep it quiet from my friends. Chris will have to know. She'll find out sooner or later," he added.

We ate the rest of our meal in relative silence. The TV was on in the living room, the news was on. I was remembering the afternoon's conversation, but mostly I was replaying Eric's facial expressions in my head. Nothing hinted at any snobbishness at all, on the contrary. He seemed very concerned about me in the little time we had spent together. That was a pleasant surprise… one among many.

I went to bed that night still thinking about Eric. At three in the morning I woke up anyway, after a nightmare. I knew it was going to happen. I was just sorry that I hadn't had a tiring enough day to keep it at bay. I tried to fall back asleep, but I was wide awake. I got up and splashed some cold water on my face. I had been crying in my sleep. Buddy was following me around, winding himself around my legs. The other two cats were dead to the world, still nestled in my blankets. At least I had one loyal fan. Buddy was my mackerel tabby, mostly black and orange, with a pink nose. He'd been with me since my first Valentine's Day with Bill. We had adopted him, a rescue. And he was usually the one who followed me around when there were no other humans. He was scared of everyone but me… of course. I was the one who fed him and cleaned his potty. So we both headed out to my lanai for some fresh early morning air. I didn't want to sit on my chairs. I knew they would be cold. So I just stood in front of the door, breathing slowly.

I heard the splashing before I could understand what it was. It came from Eric's house. He must have been swimming laps. The lights inside his pool were on, but nothing else, casting a strange undulating blue glow over the back of his house. I was standing only about 30 feet away from the edge of his pool, the way our houses were built and how close they were. I stared at his pool, hoping to catch a glimpse… and I did. It wasn't a glimpse, it was full view of Eric coming out of the pool, his strong arms getting him all the way out before his foot found the edge. He grabbed a towel he'd left on a chair and looked in my direction. Evidently he had seen me come out.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, concern again tingeing his voice.

"Oh, no. I sleep on the other side of the house. I just needed some air," I said embarrassed now. I'd seen him nearly naked in a movie, and there he was in his bathing suit, and nothing else, in real life. The thought clouded my brain. "I'm heading back inside. The cat came out by mistake," I said, scooping up Buddy and heading for the door. "Good night," I said, before he could say anything else and before he'd think I was stalking him.

"Now what?" I asked Buddy when we got inside. He just purred in my arms. I sighed. Now what, indeed. I had been counting on the change of scenery from my backyard. So I settled for my living room's TV. I chose the same movie my mom and I had watched two days ago, with Eric as a vampire. It was a good thing I enjoyed the movie itself, independent from the actor that was in it. I could tell myself I was just watching it because I liked it, and not because I wanted to catch another glimpse of Eric's nearly naked body. I had been right in my first assessment of him in real life: he was way more handsome standing in my garden than playing a sultry vampire. This was going to hurt. I hadn't developed a crush since my teens, but I remembered clearly that they weren't fun. However, I told myself, it would be something different to occupy my mind. So I gave in to the guilty pleasure of watching the movie, and fell asleep halfway through it. I dreamt of him, of Eric, and I was happy when I woke up. It sure beat the nightmares.

I woke up early enough to join my mom for her walk with Baloo the dog. He was happy to see me. My mom noticed the change in me.

"You seem better this morning. Did you have a good night?" she asked. She knew about the nightmares.

"Actually I did, for the most part. I did have a nightmare for the first part of the night, but then I was able to fall asleep again and dream of nothing," I lied a little. No need whatsoever to reveal the crush that was developing. It would pass soon enough.

Our walk was the usual gossipy affair. This time we talked about something Smitty had told my dad about some neighbor farther down the street, who might or might not have been growing marijuana plants. These retirees were the funniest bunch. I was guessing that other neighbor had been a hippie in an earlier lifetime, if the rumors were true.

Baloo started looking into some bushes, notorious for harboring feral cats, and we started pulling on his leash, when we were startled by the sound of some vigorous jogging coming from behind us. Nobody jogged around here… except… I was the first one to look up, eyes wider than they should have been.

"Good morning, ladies," said Eric as he passed. My mom called out a good morning without missing a beat. I was left speechless. He had been running wearing a very tight Under Armour shirt. That wasn't fair at all if I wanted to keep my sanity. I was finally able to tear my eyes away from his retreating figure to help my mom with Baloo. He hadn't even noticed the running man that had passed us. Stupid dog.

"He is very handsome in person, isn't he?" my mom said as we started walking back.

"Who?" I asked. I wanted a chance to form a good enough answer.

"Eric Northman. He's also much taller than I expected. He must be 6 foot 4 or something, huh?" she mused.

"I thought he was handsome before I met him in person, Mom," I said. It was true. I didn't want to admit how much more beautiful he looked to me in person. I felt like a little kid crushing on the latest boy from the latest boy-band. Except this was much worse, because he lived next door.

My mom and I headed to the market for groceries a little bit later. It was nice strolling the market with her: she was a coupon genius, and we always ended up comparing how much each had saved, and who had "won."

"You should teach a class at the Cultural Center: 'How to Win by Using Coupons'," I teased her.

"You think you're kidding. I'd rock!" she exclaimed and I laughed. By now we were unloading groceries from the back of my car and into both houses.

The beautiful dark silver Maserati pulled up into Eric's garage and my heart skipped a beat. I was aware that I still had a smile on my face, and I kept it carefully there. Eric got out of the car and smiled at us.

"Good afternoon, ladies," he said this time. It was noon. He walked over to us, and I was wondering why… Then I had to remind myself: _you know him stupid, and he knows you!_

"Hi, Eric! Mom, this is our new neighbor, Eric. Eric, this is my mom, Charlotte but we call her Charlie." I avoided his last name. I didn't want him to think I was name-dropping. This was as close to a normal conversation I could have with a famous actor. My mom extended her hand.

"Very nice to meet you, Eric. Thank you for helping Sookie yesterday with her garden. That was very nice of you," she said, truly grateful. Her smile was wide: ear to ear. I could see other thoughts forming in her head: Eric and I going for a date, Eric taking me to one of his movie premieres, Eric asking me to marry him. The problem was: the things that she wished for me, I half-dreamed for myself. But I barely knew the guy! Though I had begun making a small mental list of things I had started to notice: he wasn't a snob; he was (incredibly) concerned about me; he was a gentleman; and he was absolutely gorgeous.

"It was my pleasure. Here, let me help," Eric said, grabbing the bags from my mom's hands and following her inside her house. I was left waiting outside, unable to move to my own house. My brain started working again slowly, and when I made it to my front door, Eric had made it too and was opening it for me.

"Can I help you with those?" he asked, pointing at my hands.

"No, I got them," then another worry entered my brain. "But can you close the door behind you, please? I don't want my cats to even think of an open door," I said, calling over my shoulder. He complied and I heard the door close softly as I dropped the bags in the middle of my kitchen.

"Thank you," I said as he walked over to my kitchen.

"How are you?" he asked eyeing me carefully. I was never going to live down the crying and growling. And how could I? He'd caught me outside at three in the morning. The only reasonable conclusion for what I was doing there would be to think I hadn't had a good night. He seemed logical enough to grasp that.

"I'm good. Better than yesterday," I said. It wasn't a lie for his benefit. I really was better than yesterday. Plus, he was here, in my kitchen. Again!

"I'm glad. I was wondering if…" he broke off mid-sentence and looked down. Salty had emerged to greet the new visitor, and was winding herself around Eric's legs. "Hello, there…" he said in a soft voice, bending to pet her. She let him. She was a slut.

"That's Salty. She likes new people. I'm surprised she didn't come to greet you yesterday," I said, a little concerned that maybe he wasn't a cat person. But he seemed to enjoy petting her.

"She's a good girl. You're not the one I saw last night," he said to Salty. So he liked animals enough to talk to them… huh. Sounded like me.

"No. Last night Buddy followed me out. He's scared of people. He's probably hiding under a bathroom sink," I said, since I knew Salty wouldn't answer. "What can I say? I'm a crazy cat lady on top of plant-growler," I said, and I couldn't coax a smile to come to my lips. It didn't matter, he smiled and it was contagious. In my defense, all the cats had been acquired while I was married. They had offered me love when love had been scarce.

"I wouldn't say that at all. Well… plant-growler, I'll give you that one," he said, laughing now. It made me laugh too. I was still having problems forming coherent sentences around him… I was trying very hard to sound normal. I noticed his teeth were very straight, just like in the movies, except for one. It had the slightest crook, so slight that nobody would really notice that wasn't really looking, like I was right now.

"I meant to ask you if you'd show me where you got your plants. I drove around today and visited a couple of places, but couldn't find any nice plants like yours," he said. Had I just seen a twinkle in his eye? It was as if he was really hoping I would say yes. I wouldn't disappoint.

"I'll show you. It's actually in Punta Gorda, a little farther south. I'll put away my groceries and we can go," I said.

"Thanks. I'll help," he said, picking up a bag. We put away groceries through teamwork. He seemed to guess where everything should go, and since I wasn't particular about the way things got put in shelves (and even if I had been, I wasn't going to be today), we got done quickly.

"I'll get my keys," I said. I locked my door and started walking to my car. He stopped. He had been moving towards his own.

"You don't have to drive," he said, perplexed. I guess he couldn't understand my motives. My motives were simple: keep the Maserati clean. My car was already dirty from the day before, no sense in getting his dirty. I explained… badly.

"Um… my car is already dirty from yesterday…" I started to say, but stopped as he had started to shake his head.

"You're doing me a favor. I can't let you use your gasoline on top of everything else. Please," he said and held his hand out towards me. My eyes wanted to pop out of their sockets. Did he want me to grab his hand? I moved forward, it was like gravity: strong and inevitable. I gave him my hand, and he pulled me forward in front of him, and steered me towards the passenger side of his car. It was a friendly gesture. It was exactly that: something a friend would do. I could picture Chris doing this to me or me to her. Eric did hold the door open for me. He was a gentleman after all.

I sat in the burgundy leather seat and looked around me. The car was incredibly luxurious inside as well as outside. I particularly liked the smell… a mixture of Eric's cologne and leather. I buckled myself in barely thinking, and the engine purred to life. Huh? He wasn't even in his seat. _Show off_, I said to myself. He must have had a remote starter. I decided to be honest with myself: if this car had been mine, could I bear not showing it off? Of course not. So I cut him some slack, and rearranged my thoughts as he sat and buckled his own seatbelt.

"It's a beautiful car," I said. He'd obviously been fishing for a compliment, and I didn't mind giving it.

"Thank you. So, where to?" he asked. I gave him directions. Rather than thinking too hard about having a meaningful conversation, I explained how to get to most places that were important in his new neighborhood. I'm sure the GPS that was part of his console could have told him where things were, but he let me ramble on. He drove carefully, almost like me but a little slower. He seemed to be paying attention to what I was saying. We arrived at the nursery and he was pleasantly surprised.

"Yes! This is exactly what I was looking for," he said. He came around to open my door for me, except that I already had it open and was starting to step out. I'd forgotten his penchant for all things chivalrous.

"I can always find what I'm looking for," I said, and started leading the way. We walked side by side in silence. I was silent because I was feeling very shy. I wasn't sure what could have made him hold his tongue. He seemed to be deep in thought, looking here and there.

"Now I have a dilemma," he announced, stopping suddenly in the middle of an aisle full of bushes. "I can't make up my mind. I don't know what I want," he said, pursing his lips.

"Where are you planting?" I asked. I wasn't an expert gardener, for sure, but I could help with the choosing.

"I was going to add a few things to the backyard. It looks a little sad," he said, looking at me now. I was momentarily mesmerized, then decided to look away so I could form complete sentences.

"Well… for a happy garden you need flowers," I started looking around. "What kind of flowers do you like?" I asked.

"I'm not sure. I'm not used to this side of the Atlantic," he said, flashing a smile.

"Your backyard is very sunny. I would suggest hibiscus. They love the sun," I said, by now I was walking towards the hibiscus aisle. They were popular plants in Florida, and it was easy to see why. I paused by a particularly beautiful plant, showing off plate-sized flowers of a peach and pink color. I stroked a petal, admiring it. I felt Eric standing close by… a little too close for my heart to not register it. I was falling hard. _Focus, Sookie! Flowers._

"They're lovely. I'll go get a trolley," he said. I smiled. _Trolley_? To me it was a cart. He came back and I was still smiling to myself. He pretended not to notice and put the plant on the "trolley." I strolled down the aisle, letting him make his own choices. I went a little farther to read the instructions on a tree. When I heard my name, he wasn't that far away anymore.

"Sookie, what about these?" he asked. I walked over to the plant he was admiring.

"That's a beach sunflower. You'll like it: it attracts butterflies, and it's a native so it doesn't need that much care," I said. He was looking at me intently when I finally looked up at him. _Whoa_!

"I'll take it too," he said, lifting the plant. He had four plants on his cart. "Shall we?" he asked me. I guessed he was done. He paid and I followed him outside. His plants would have to go in the backseat and I cringed at the thought.

"You really should have let me drive," I mumbled as I helped him fit a plant inside the car.

"Nonsense. Don't worry, it's just a car," he winked at me. Ouch! It was almost physically painful to crush on him like this.

We headed home. I knew I should speak. I just couldn't bring myself to ask all the questions on my mind.

"Sookie… What were you doing outside at three in the morning?" he asked, finally. His tone was gentle. I looked down: might as well fez up.

"I'd had a nightmare, and I couldn't sleep. I needed some fresh air," I took a deep breath and looked at him. He glanced at me, and whatever he saw in my face made him frown slightly.

"You're still having nightmares?" he asked. I guessed he'd had nightmares too.

"Yeah… still. I have them most nights. I only get a good night's sleep when I've had several nights of bad sleep and I'm too exhausted to even dream," I said. I knew I sounded pathetic, but I found myself able to tell him things. Maybe it was the jitters I got from the stupid crush I was having.

"You must have really suffered at his loss for you to still be having nightmares," he muttered. Suddenly I realized what he'd wanted to say instead: he'd had a few nightmares, but they hadn't lasted long. Did he love his wife less? He didn't know of my special circumstance. I would have to make him stop thinking himself inferior to me, because he was clearly superior. His conscience was clear, therefore, less nightmares.

"Eric… I think you're misunderstanding. I'm having nightmares for a different reason. It's actually a very unhealthy reason. I don't think your lack of nightmares means that you loved your wife any less," I said. We came to a red light and he turned his head to me, surprised at what I had said.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "Was I out of line?" I asked.

"No, not at all. You were amazingly right on the dot," he said, still looking at me carefully. "Thank you," he said. I wasn't sure what he was thanking me for, but I let it go.

I grew quiet again. I was a turtle back inside my shell. This was a learned behavior, and it was taking a lot of effort to return to the way I used to be. Chris had been the person who had gotten me the closest. For some reason her easy manner and funky way of thinking made me realize I had been taking myself too seriously for far too long. And now this beautiful man sitting next to me had elicited brand new feelings that I thought I could never feel again. I should try my best to open up to him, if only because he seemed to be understanding. I took another deep breath and felt him look at me briefly. He seemed to feel the necessity for a change in subject, and obliged.

"What does your brother do?" he asked. I gave him brownie points for trying to make me come out of my shell.

"He's still in college, plus he's a singer in a band," I answered, making myself look at Eric while answering.

"What kind of music do they play?" he asked good-naturedly. He looked genuinely interested, like he would probably go to one of their gigs. I had a hard time imagining it.

"Well… it's a death metal band, so maybe saying that my brother is a singer was a misnomer," I answered smiling. I was still trying to picture Eric dressed in all black and wearing scary boots. Nope. It wasn't something my mind was up to task for. Even playing a vampire in a movie, Eric did not look half as Goth as the audience that came to listen to my brother's band play.

"Death metal… that's deep," he answered, and I wondered what he meant. I'd have to ask Jason. "Are you musical too?" Eric asked me.

"Well… I sing, but only in the shower. I've been told I can hold a tune pretty well, but that's about it. The musical gene skips the girls in my family. My dad plays guitar, and Jason can play guitar and bass. I tried the piano, but I have very little aptitude," I said. I was actually quite sad about that. As much as I had practiced playing when I was a little girl, it became obvious I didn't have the dexterity or coordination necessary to play the instrument.

"But you can sing, right?" he asked.

"Some say I can," I said. I knew I could sing the right notes, but too many times of Bill making me stop singing around the house had made me self-conscious. If he didn't like me singing, it must have been because my voice wasn't all that great, no matter how good I could hold a note.

"Hmmm… So you play a different kind of instrument," said Eric. I saw what he was trying to do.

"Yes, but everyone can sing," I said, and watched as his eyes widened in shock. He turned to look at me.

"I can't sing. Not everybody can sing, love. You're very lucky. Trust me," he said. I shrugged. He was deluded.

We arrived at his house and started unloading plants. While taking a plant out of his backseat, I happened to look up and saw Chris running across my lawn towards our general direction.

"Hi, Sookie," she called out. Eric had been setting a plant down, but he heard Chris and turned to look at her, smiling. I got a little jealous.

"Chris, I'd like you to meet Eric," I said, making the introductions again. "Eric, this is Chris, my brother Jason's girlfriend," I said. They shook hands.

"A pleasure Chris," he said. Chris seemed a little speechless.

"Same here. Are you coming too?" she asked him.

"Chris, where are we going?" I asked her. She always seemed to think people could read her mind. Eric was politely waiting to answer her question until she answered mine.

"The guys are having practice today for a couple of hours after dinner. You said you'd come," she said. I recalled saying I'd go to one of Jason's band practices. I didn't know it was today.

"I can't make it today. Perhaps some other time," answered Eric in his soft accent.

"I think Eric will need help…" I started but was quickly interrupted by both parties.

"I don't need help," said Eric shaking his head politely, not wanting to keep me from fun.

"But you said…!" Chris stomped a foot on the ground. She didn't like to be the only spectator during practices.

"Eric, are you sure you don't need help?" I asked him, Chris was still pouting with her arms crossed. I knew Eric would say no.

"I can handle this. Thank you for taking me to the nursery," he said nodding politely.

"Anytime," I said, before I could help myself. I gave him a shy smile and turned to go to my parents' house. Chris was so happy she was practically skipping.

"He's cute!" she announced as we walked in the house, finally out of Eric's earshot.

"Who?" I asked her, in the same manner as I had answered my mom this morning.

"Oh, please! Were you there? That guy is cute. You should date him," she said. I shrugged.

"There's the little matter that he would have to want to date me too," I said. Chris rolled her eyes at me and crossed her arms.

"I am going to ask you this one more time. Where. You. There?" she asked again, this time she looked mad. "He was totally into you, could barely keep his eyes off of you," she said. Then she looked at me more carefully. "You didn't notice, did you?" she asked.

"No, which makes me think that you're delusional," I said to her. She was messing with my crush. I turned to the kitchen, where I found that my mom had been listening to our conversation while making dinner.

"I happen to agree with Chris. Why else would he have asked you to show him where the nursery was? Like he can't just look one up online…" my mom offered. Yeah! 'Cause God forbid I started fantasizing EVEN MORE about that beautiful man living next to me.

We ate dinner quickly and headed to the band mate's house where they practiced. Everybody was arriving at the same time. They set up in record time and started practice right away. It was Sunday, so they wanted to wrap it up before the neighbors could even think of complaining. Practice was much lower in volume than a concert, for sure. It actually sounded nice, until my brother started bellowing. I concentrated on the music.

Once in a while Quinn would glance at me, smiling. Unfortunately for him I was currently in the midst of crushing on a gorgeous neighbor (not to mention famous actor), and Quinn's cute features couldn't quite compete. I actually felt a little mad at myself. Quinn was clearly an attainable goal, someone who was like me, who lived in my world. I was still trying to make heads or tails of Eric and how he had shown up in my life at this particular moment. And why. I also wondered why. It was obviously cosmos' attempt at driving me bonkers. There was no other explanation.

Practice was over by eight o'clock and the band started to wrap it up. Jason seemed to be sheltering me from Quinn in a way that I thought was a little rude. He had put Chris and himself deliberately between Quinn and me on our way out. I wondered what _that_ was about.

"Jason… what's up with Quinn?" I asked when he, Chris and I were piled up in his car on our way home.

"What do you mean?" he asked. His voice was grave. I wondered if it was from the screaming or if he was keeping something from me.

"You didn't want him to come anywhere close to me," I reminded him, as if he needed any reminding. He knew what he had done.

"Quinn is not good for you, Sookie," this time it was Chris who spoke.

"Care to elaborate," I said. I'd found nothing to be weary of while speaking to him on Friday. There was nothing there I wanted to pursue, but I was feeling a little peeved that Jason and Chris had taken unilateral action against Quinn.

"He said something less than polite about you to me. I didn't like it. Jason told him to keep away from you," Chris answered me. Oh, so Jason was being the protective little brother again, and Chris too. It was sweet. I couldn't argue with that… unless either of them had gotten protective over Eric. Then I would have had a problem.

"Fair enough," I answered.

"Besides, you need to concentrate on Eric," Chris added. I saw Jason shoot her a dark look. I sighed in defeat. There was no way to make her understand that the feeling wasn't mutual.

Jason dropped me at home and then drove Chris to hers. I glanced at Eric's house, and everything seemed dark. But his car was in the driveway… maybe he'd gone to bed early. _Stop obsessing Sookie_! I went inside, took a shower and went to watch a movie in my living room. I was shuffling through my internet queue and decided what the heck? I'd watch the vampire movie again, and indulge in looking at Eric. It was my own little hurt anyway.

**TBC**


	3. This Kiss

**A/N: **As always, thank you for your reviews. I realize AH paired with AU is unconventional, but if y'all like it, I shall continue. Here's some more of what's already written, therefore another fast update.

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**Chapter 3 – This Kiss**

The sun was bright and warm: a perfect summer day. I was walking at a deserted beach, letting the waves wet my feet a little. In the distance a tall figure was making its way towards me. The closer it got the better I could discern the features. It was obviously a man. The hair shone yellow like the sunlight. He was only wearing board shorts, his chest bare. I finally realized it was Eric, but only when I was able to see into his blue eyes. By then he was only a half step away from me. He took me in his arms… and I woke up.

Darn! I'd been expecting a kiss. _Wait! No nightmare!_ I thought about that for a long time, with my eyes still closed. I had fallen asleep on my reclining couch, watching the vampire movie. _If that's what it's going to take, I'll watch the movie every night_, I thought. I got up from the couch. It was light outside. The clock on my coffeemaker announced that it was seven. Apparently seven was my magic number.

I got ready and joined my mom for our usual walk. It was a silent affair today. She must have been making some kind of plan, probably thinking about taking a new vacation, and I was lost in my own thoughts. I happened to look up at one point, and saw the bald eagle perched on the usual light post. It was looking at us today, instead of waiting patiently for Smitty's yappy dog. My mom and I paused to look back at it.

"It's probably a she," I mused. "She must have a nest nearby," I said without looking away. The giant bird cocked her head at the sound of my voice. In photographs one can only guess at a bald eagle's size. In real life they are humongous.

I heard someone's jogging steps getting closer. That could only mean one person, and I knew who it was without even looking. My heart skipped a beat or two and then picked up fast and furious. I didn't dare look at him, though. Eric's footsteps slowed down as he took in the object of our attention.

"Wow!" he exclaimed, coming to a full stop behind me. I couldn't help it, I turned towards him.

"Impressive, isn't it? A very beautiful creature," I commented. He looked at me and gave me one of his most beautiful smiles.

"Yes it is," he agreed. He didn't let go of my gaze for a long moment. It didn't even feel awkward. We were in our own little world for the tiniest fraction of time. Only my mom's voice brought me back.

"Sweetie, I'm going to get Baloo inside. He looks thirsty," she said and started to walk back to the house. What she meant to say was that she would go and leave us there. But I couldn't handle Eric just now, not after the dream.

"See you later Eric," I said with a short wave, and walked after my mom. She didn't say anything at first, waiting until we were at a safe distance from Eric before chiding me.

"You were supposed to stay with him, Sookie," she said rolling her eyes.

"Mom, I don't think I'm ready for that," _today_, I added mentally. The way he had looked at me, and I at him… My heart started racing again, and he wasn't even in front of me.

It was house cleaning day at both houses, so we headed our separate ways. I turned on some very upbeat music by a European rock band so I could sing along. As I was dusting I was dancing. It was tough to dance while scrubbing a toilet, but dusting was perfect. For about 4 songs I didn't think of anything but the music and concentrating on hitting the right notes, sweeping, mopping, cleaning kitty potties... Then I heard my doorbell. Drat! Just when it was getting good.

"Hello," said Eric, smiling from the other side of my threshold. Oh… this wasn't good at all. He must have seen a pained expression in my face because his smile faded.

"I'm sorry. I would have called first, but I don't have your number. I didn't mean to interrupt you. Good music," he added, the smile returning. Then something clicked in my brain.

"Oh, my God! I'm so sorry… I'm not used to having someone be in your house, so I just blast the music. I'll turn it down," I said, running away to my stereo. He remained at the door.

"I didn't come to complain about the music," he said when I returned, still smiling. "May I come in?" he asked. I'm sure he could see the chagrin in my face at my lack of hosting skills, again.

"Yes, of course. Come in," I said, making room for him to come in the door. Jeez! I was really bad at this. I could feel my heart doubling its pace… a mix of the crush and embarrassment making me feel really bad at that particular moment. Not to mention the fact that he seemed to have taken a shower right before coming to see me, and he looked just as good as he smelled.

"How are you today?" he asked. There was something a little wicked in his smile, like he was holding onto a secret.

"I'm great," I lied, sort of. It was great to be able to see him, but the feeling of utter speechlessness, helplessness, and plain old messed-up-ness that I felt by just being in his presence, that wasn't too great at all. After lying I was able to look up at him again. His blue eyes searched my gray-blue ones, and whatever he found made him frown.

"I know. It's none of my business. But I was quite alone with my pain, and I know how that feels," he said again, trying to convince me to talk. This made the guilt I'd so carefully put away rear its ugly head. He could never understand. He'd been a good husband and he'd had a good wife. He'd suffered true grief. I was suffering from guilt and I was insecure to boot. I heard Eric sigh. By then my head had hung down.

"I'll tell you what. I won't bring it up anymore. Do you want to come see my sailboat? It just arrived," he said, another smile forming on his beautiful face. I couldn't help but respond with a smile of my own.

"Um, sure! Let me get my boat shoes," I said, running to my bedroom. Too bad I looked like I'd been cleaning my house all morning.

We walked out to his back lawn in silence. He was walking quite close, and I was liking it too much. I noticed again his height. My mom was right: he was very tall. I looked up at him at the same time that he was looking down at me. His answering full teeth grin was breathtaking. I grinned too but looked away quickly. I could feel my cheeks starting to flush red. Not good… I focused on the clink-clink of the sails' hardware against the mast. I loved that sound.

"What do you think?" he asked, making a gesture reminiscent of a model on The Price is Right.

It was a beautiful vessel. And huge! By golly, it must have been at least 40 feet long! The sails were carefully tucked away, the boat was white and there were hints of black trim everywhere. Its name was "Aeolus." I took in the beautiful lines as I answered.

"It is absolutely beautiful. I really love the name: the Greek god of wind," I said, trying not to look at him.

"Come! I'll show you the inside," he said taking my hand gently and pulling me along. He wasn't walking fast, but I still trailed a little behind him. He let go of my hand briefly as he climbed in the boat, then held out both his hands to help me get in. He didn't know I'd been getting in and out of boats all my life, but I let him help me just the same. His face was excited. It reminded me of a little kid with a new toy.

"Did you just buy it?" I asked. I knew it was rude, but I wanted to understand him.

"No. I bought it a year ago, but I've only had a chance to use it sporadically. That's one of the reasons I bought this house, so I could have my boat right behind it," he said, opening a hatch to the inside of the boat. I looked around me as I waited, taking in the teak that was not yet faded to gray, the comfortable-looking seats around the helm, and how spacious it actually was, for a sailboat.

"Here, follow me," he said, turning to me and taking my hand again. He backed carefully into the hole that led downstairs, and led the way backwards. He looked at me the whole time, smiley faced with dancing eyes. Just looking at him made me smile in response, and I couldn't even repress a giggle.

"What?" he asked at my expression.

"You seem like a little kid showing me your brand new toy. Mind you, this IS quite… phenomenal," I said, not able to hide my thoughts from him and not able to come up with a good enough word to describe his boat. He laughed at what I said and continued to lead the way downstairs. He didn't let go of my hands until we were safely off the stairs.

We stepped into a small kitchen. The cabinets were a warm shade of orangey wood, very shiny, and immaculate. To the right was a small sitting area, and to the left a table that looked like a booth. I knew this could turn into a bed if needed. Beyond that, at the helm, was a small triangular bedroom. To the immediate right was a bathroom, and if I turned to look under the stairs I could see the master bedroom. I walked that way. I'd always been fascinated by the inside of luxury yachts. The bed was covered in a gray comforter that was made to fit the bed snuggly. It was perched on a row of drawers of the same-colored wood as the kitchen. There was a sofa here, which was odd to me, and more drawers, and a small closet. The curtains on the small windows, which matched the comforter, were pulled back with ties and I could see his house to one side and the canal on the other. The sailboat didn't move, but down here one could hear the gentle lapping of the water against the hull.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"What's not to like? It's very luxurious. Did you pick the trim yourself or did it come that way?" I asked. This was usually a rude question too. It was tantamount to asking whether he bought it new or used.

"Um… I was at the boat show in New York City and saw it there. I liked it and bought it. It was impulse, I'll admit. I've always wanted one, you see? I'd never had the time to devote to one, and then… well… I'll admit I was a little depressed when I first bought it," he said. This time he looked away from me, his usual smile had faded. I couldn't help it then. I didn't know what else to do so I reached for his hand. He looked down at our hands, and put his other hand over mine and brought it up to his lips. I couldn't believe he was kissing my hand. I tried to keep my composure. He had been in pain. I was helping him as he had helped me. Nothing more.

"Thank you for understanding. When I tell this story most people have something to say about my decision," he said, still holding my hand. By now it was against his chest. I sighed, not because I was crushing on him… but because I knew how some people could be.

"There is nothing to say. I see how happy you are with the boat, so it was obviously not a mistake," I said shrugging my shoulders. His eyes hadn't let go of mine. He sighed too, and as he did his smile returned. His eyes were still sad, though.

"Hello!" said a voice from above. It startled us. It sounded like my dad. "Permission to come aboard," he called out from Eric's backyard. He evidently had seen the hatch was open. Eric grinned wide now. It almost took my breath away. He had seemed reluctant to look away from me, or I was imagining things. Either way, the smiles and the kiss on my hand were going to make it extremely hard not to keep the crush going.

"Of course! Come on in!" Eric called out, pulling me along towards the stairs and making our way up.

"Hi! I'm Donnie Stackhouse," my dad said, extending his hand for a handshake once we were all the way upstairs. Eric shook it, while still not letting go of my own hand. My dad's eyes darted to our hands for a fraction of a second, and it only made him smile wider. God only knew what was running through his mind.

"Eric Northman, a pleasure."

"This is a beautiful boat, just gorgeous," my dad said, and then they started talking in boat jargon and I couldn't keep up, but made it look like I was listening anyway. I watched Eric as he talked and tried to memorize some more mannerisms: the way his neck muscles flexed when he was talking about something exciting; the way his eyes narrowed and his nose wrinkled when he was trying to remember something. He was fun to watch. No wonder he was an actor.

"I'm grilling steaks for dinner. Would you like to join us? Say, around six?" my dad asked as he made his way down.

"I would love to. I'll be there," answered Eric with a wide smile as he waved goodbye. He still had my hand. By now he had intertwined our fingers together. I was still a little shocked at his touch, but I couldn't let go, nor did I want to. He glanced at his watch, bringing up my hand with his.

"It's only three," he mused, then looked at me with hope in his eyes. I smiled timidly. "Do you have any more lemonade? I'm parched," he said. At this I chuckled. Is that what he wanted? Well… THAT I could provide.

"I sure do. Come with me," I said. This time I led the way. And so we walked, hand in hand, to my house… for lemonade. He finally let go of my hand when we were in my kitchen and I had hosting duties. He sat at the same chair as the day before and put his elbows on the table, resting his head on his hands and watching me move around the kitchen. I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn't want to look at him until it was absolutely necessary. When I did he had a wide smile ready for me and me alone. Whoa! I would NOT be able to get that out of my head now! But I sat next to him with my own glass, trying to not hyperventilate while sipping my lemonade.

"So… you know what I do. What do you do?" he asked curious. I told him my story, how I wasn't sure of what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, what I had done in my previous one. He listened intently, and only offered a suggestion when I was done talking.

"I think you should get out of the house, fill your mind. My suggestion is to go back to school. It will fill your head without having to worry about bosses and office dynamics. I know my work helped me, but I'm lucky that I do what I love to do for a living," he said, smiling again.

"I liked my work, for the most part. I got to help people. But you're right. Part of the reason I'm procrastinating my decision is because I don't really want to go back to an office yet. School should be better. I used to like going to college… maybe it's time I went back," I said, looking straight ahead out the window of my kitchen. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his hand slowly moving towards my face. On instinct, I moved my face towards it. He carefully tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. Men were strangely drawn to my hair… hm. But instead of pulling his hand back, he rested it against my neck. His eyes had not met mine yet. They were roaming around my features. I felt something inside me turn mushy, in a good kind of way.

"I've never met anybody like you," he said to me, a smile slowly making its way to his lips as he spoke.

"I've never met anybody like _you_," I said back to him. I had to chuckle at this. He was surely much more extraordinary to me than I was to him. He laughed softly too, understanding what I'd meant.

"I mean… I'm always around people who think their opinions and suggestions are more valuable than anybody else's. Yet you listened to me and understood the very first time. And, you also let me in and let me figure you out. It's different. It's nice," he said, his neck muscles flexing, his beautiful ever-present smile fading. He must have been upset about something. It did register in my mind that I hadn't let him in completely. He sighed, his hand moving up to cup my face. I couldn't help it, I closed my eyes and leaned into it, finding a kind of relief I didn't know I had been seeking. Suddenly I felt… okay. I didn't feel as guilty anymore. Even the nervous butterflies in my stomach began to quiet down at his touch. I felt his other hand caressing my temple, probably brushing another stray hair strand back into place. I tried to speak.

"It's very nice to find someone who understands," I said finally. He probably didn't understand my guilt, but he sure understood my loneliness. That would be enough for now. I'd had many dreams of my life with Bill, all of which had been shattered just as Eric's dreams had. The timing, though, had been slightly different. My dreams had been shattered two days before my husband's death. Either way it was the same loss, the same pain. I opened my eyes and he was staring at me intently, and much closer to me than I'd realized. My eyes opened wide and my breath caught in my chest. The butterflies returned and made me tremble. He didn't move any closer, but he didn't pull away either.

"Sometimes you look so lost," he said to me finally. He was very perceptive. How did he do that? I didn't know what to say, but it seemed that my expression spoke for me.

"But you are here," he continued. "Look how blessed you are: your family is right next door, and they love you and care for you. And now you have me," he said. This time he did pull away slightly, and took my hands in his to kiss them both. I smiled at how easy he made it sound. As if he wouldn't one day disappear…

"I think we have time to watch a movie before dinner. Would you care to watch a movie with me?" he asked. I automatically looked down at my outfit. I was not dressed to go to the movies.

"You'll be fine. We're not going far," he said, taking in my expression and understanding it thoroughly. I barely had to speak with him around. How odd… just when my mind was full of everything, I found myself speechless.

We went to his house, taking a shortcut through my backyard. His house was exactly like mine inside – right down to the white walls -, except for the furniture. There was a baby grand piano in his dining room. It was as good a place as any, since the houses were small. He took me to his living room, though I knew exactly where it was. His couch was different than mine: it was dark brown suede (something my cats would have destroyed the minute they saw it), with extra cushy cushions that I sank into when he sat me down. He didn't have a coffee table. Instead he had a giant ottoman where I could prop my feet. I took off my shoes, though, before I did any propping.

Eric turned away from me, opening a very large media center that housed a very large TV and several scary-looking machines. To the right, a box full of DVD's.

"I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to unpack everything," he said, turning to me briefly. "I became an actor because I love movies," he said while rummaging through the box, then stopped suddenly.

"Do you like comedies, dramas, indies?" he asked turning to me.

"I like them all. I'm a bit of a movie buff as well," I said. His answering smile was almost wicked, like he was planning something naughty but nice. He turned back to his box and finally pulled a DVD triumphantly.

"You are going to love this one," he said, turning on the complicated system and popping in the movie. He sank into the couch next to me, a remote in his hand.

"Are you in it?" I asked timidly. At this he laughed.

"No. I only watch my own movies once, just to see how they turned out. This one was directed by a friend," he said, playing with the remote's buttons.

The movie was interesting enough to keep me focused on _it_ rather than on Eric for the whole first half. But I completely lost my concentration when he suddenly felt the need to reach for my hand. I had the slight impression that he had stopped watching the movie long before he had decided to hold my hand. He was excruciatingly gentle when he took it. Once again he brought it up to his lips to kiss it, and my heart skipped a beat before beginning to pound again hard within my chest. He kissed my knuckles, just like he had before, but then turned it around and kissed my wrist. I bit my lips at the sensation. I felt a strange kind of electricity running up my arm. He came closer to me, putting my hand around him, and reaching around me. His right hand was free and roaming my left shoulder, up my neck, turning me towards him ever so gently. I couldn't blink. His eyes held mine as he moved me closer. And then he hugged me to him. I was expecting a kiss, but he hugged me instead… and I melted into his embrace and returned it. He felt so warm after the cold of abandonment. I felt like I was breathing again some clean air I hadn't known I was missing. So I breathed in deep. He breathed too, his heart going about as fast as mine. I realized this was something new for him too. I was amazed by this knowledge. He reached up to caress my hair.

"I can't believe my lucky stars," he said, his smooth voice rumbling in his chest. "I can't believe I found you." He made it sound like he had been looking for me all this time, and this was our reunion. That's how it felt for me, only I didn't know that I had been searching for anything at all. I had been in so much pain for so long… And here I had thought that liking him would make me hurt again. But he seemed to like me too. _Wow_…

He pulled away, but not too much, just enough to be able to look into my eyes again. "Here you are, and you are so beautiful," he said while still holding me. Nobody had told me I was beautiful in so long. It jolted my battered heart and sounded like a lie. But I didn't care. I would take it, whatever came. This was too rare and precious to ruin it with thinking about when it would end.

His fingers traced my face, touching everywhere: my temple, my eyelashes, my nose, my lips… when he touched my lips my eyes automatically closed and my lips parted. His touch was light as a feather. The next touch was of his lips on mine. This made me open my eyes and pull away slightly. He did as well.

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have," he said shaking his head. I shook my head too. I hadn't wanted him to stop.

"No, it's okay," more than okay, I thought. "You just caught me by surprise," I said. This made him smile a little.

"May I kiss you?" he asked this time. I could only nod. His lips met mine once more. He kissed me softly at first, and I followed his lead. As I did his kiss became eager, and I responded in kind. I felt his tongue and my lips parted once more, this time to allow him inside. I couldn't believe the flood of emotions coursing through me… and one of them was most definitely lust. I could feel it. I was turning into chocolate pudding: soft and sweet. But another emotion, much stronger than lust, was starting to surface. Love. This kiss would hurt me later. I pulled him closer, though, trying to get him inside me through osmosis. One of his hands had found the small of my back and had reached under my shirt. I was a little glad that it hadn't found its way farther up, though. I don't think I was ready for that.

Eric stopped kissing my lips and moved to kiss my face, making his way to my neck and giving me goose bumps. I gasped when, instead of kissing me, he licked me with the tip of his tongue. His breath was coming fast now against my skin, and he was so much bigger than me. He was everywhere. I didn't notice when my hand popped one of the buttons on his shirt as I was trying to touch his chest. But he did, and pulled away from my neck, holding my hand in its place on his chest. He looked into my eyes. His were excited, the need was plain. But his expression turned into something different. His face turned even more beautiful, if that were possible. I had a hard time trying to read his expression, but my amazement at what had just happened kept me from worrying too much.

"Sookie…" he whispered. He leaned in for another kiss, both his hands cupping my face this time. This kiss was unbearably sweet, and it made me want to cry. But I held it in. If he saw me crying now he would come to the wrong conclusion. The last thing I wanted was to make him sad. He repeated my name as he kissed me, whispering against my lips, like a chant or a prayer. He stopped kissing me only to hug me against him again. I put my arms around him too, holding on. I could hear his heart going wild. I took a deep breath, took in his smell (faintly of his cologne, a little musky from his sweat, but pleasant just the same). We stayed locked in our embrace for a long time, his hand gently running up and down my back. I was just trying to wrap my head around the fact that this beautiful man had just kissed me, and quite passionately too. I sighed again. He heard me and I felt him shake in a soft laugh.

"I feel the same way," he said, and sighed as he pulled away. "It's time to go to dinner," he said, looking at my reaction. My eyes widened a little.

"Wait. Um… my mom will be asking questions later," I said, searching his face. But he was… blissful.

"Tell her everything about us, or tell her nothing. Sookie, I just found you. You have no idea how happy you have made me today. I want you to be happy too, so we'll move at your pace," he said smoothing my hair.

"So it's ok if I tell her about us?" I asked, double-checking.

"Yes, love, of course. I would like nothing better. Do you want to tell them all during dinner? I'll be right there next to you and maybe help…" he said, his smile wider but not mocking. He was genuinely full of joy. I took a deep breath and smiled too, this time I was feeling more like he was.

"No need to say anything. They'll notice us the minute we walk in," I said. He took my hand again, and held my palm to his face. We locked eyes; his were so lovely. My heart swelled inside my chest and I forgot time and place. Then he closed his eyes and turned his head to kiss the palm of my hand. His lips lingered there and I felt his breath hot on my fingers. My brain stopped as I stared. He opened his eyes and looked at me once more. He gifted me with another smile.

"Come on. Let's eat. I'm hungry," Eric said, standing up and pulling me with him. We walked hand in hand until we reached his backyard, and then he pulled me and put his arm around my waist, and I put mine around his. We looked at each other, stumbling a little because we hadn't yet perfected the walk, and we both started laughing. I could see he was happy, and I felt happy too. For now, I told myself.

How could somebody like him be at all interested in me? I was unexceptional. Okay, so my hair was pretty, and guys seemed to ogle a little too much for my comfort. But that was it, though. I was never comfortable with all the looks because I thought they were looking at my breasts, or some other part of me, in a sexual way. I never considered myself beautiful like the actresses that Eric worked with. Now _they_ were exceptional. So besides sharing dead spouses, what else did he see in me? That's when I made up my mind. I would crush on him, I would let this go in whatever direction it was heading, but I wouldn't allow myself to hope beyond some dating. I couldn't let myself fall in love. This would hurt either way, but if I began imagining a life together (like I was bound to do); I would hurt that much worse when it ended. And how could it not end? He would find someone more beautiful, or better able to understand his life, and he would leave. I was sure of it.

**TBC**


	4. Can't Put this Day Back

**A/N: **Thank you so much to everybody who reviewed, favorited (I looked it up, it's… not a word, but I don't care), and alerted this story. It's my little labor of love.

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**Chapter 4 – Can't Put this Day Back**

_How could somebody like him be at all interested in me? I was unexceptional. Okay, so my hair was pretty, and guys seemed to ogle a little too much for my comfort. But that was it, though. I was never comfortable with all the looks because I thought they were looking at my breasts, or some other part of me, in a sexual way. I never considered myself beautiful like the actresses that Eric worked with. Now __they__ were exceptional. So besides sharing dead spouses, what else did he see in me? That's when I made up my mind. I would crush on him, I would let this go in whatever direction it was heading, but I wouldn't allow myself to hope beyond some dating. I couldn't let myself fall in love. This would hurt either way, but if I began imagining a life together (like I was bound to do); I would hurt that much worse when it ended. And how could it not end? He would find someone more beautiful, or better able to understand his life, and he would leave. I was sure of it._

As we moved around the fence that circled my parents' backyard he stopped. I looked up at him confused at the sudden stop.

"What's wrong?" he asked. Oh… he had guessed at my resolve. Were my thoughts really THAT plain on my face?

"Nothing…" I trailed off, faking ignorance. He looked at me suspiciously for a second and then continued towing me to the gate. I began calculating what I would rather live with: the nightmares, or the feeling that Eric would one day leave me. I opted for the latter. I'd been having nightmares for way too long now and I wanted my mind occupied with some other kind of mess. They were all my messes after all. I would just have to deal.

My dad was still grilling when we arrived. I had seen my mom go in and out of the house a couple of times by the time we actually reached the lanai. She seemed nervous.

"Do you guys want to eat inside or outside?" she asked before even saying hello. I shot her a disbelieving stare and she remembered her manners.

"Hi, Eric. It's so nice you came," said my mom, walking over to him and planting a kiss on his cheek. The kissing was typical of our family, but I knew that it might not sit well with everybody. Eric gave her one of his devastating smiles, and I saw her catch her breath. She was about to die of satisfaction. She had probably already been made aware of the hand-holding my dad had witnessed, and the closeness she saw now between Eric and me probably had her singing the Wedding March in her head.

"It's my pleasure, Charlie. Thank you for having me for dinner," said Eric. Perfect English manners. He was probably incapable of losing his composure, ever.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'd prefer inside after this grill," my dad answered my mom's question.

"I am comfortable anywhere," Eric said, looking down at me. _As long as you are there_, he seemed to say to me. Now I was putting words in his head! How pathetic.

"Then follow me. Donnie will be done in a minute with those steaks," my mom said, leading the way towards the back door. Just inside, as we entered through the dining room, the table was ready to be set. Eric followed me to the kitchen, and grabbed a set of plates that my mom had laid out on the counter, while I grabbed the silverware. We set the table in silence. He would put a plate and I would put the silverware around it, all the while we barely stopped touching. When we were done all I wanted was to kiss him. I turned to him and he reached for both my hands. The expression in his eyes seemed to be echoing my thoughts. He kissed my hands instead, and then leaned in and whispered "later" in my ear. Oh, crap! I was in trouble now. I wouldn't even be able to eat.

My mom started putting food on the table then, trying to suppress a smile. I was sure she had moved on to grandchildren in her head. I had seen this look before on her face, but never this pronounced.

"Dinner is ready," she announced as soon as my dad walked in the door holding a tray of steaks. Eric and I sat next to each other, my dad at the head of the table, my mom across from me. My brother made it out of his bedroom, oblivious to what was going on. He was taken slightly aback by Eric's presence.

"Eric, this is my brother Jason," I said pointing to Jason as he moved to the seat next to my mom. Both men extended their right hands across the table, Eric with one of his usual open smiles, my brother still a little surprised.

"Nice to meet you," said Eric, first.

"Nice to meet you too," said Jason slowly. He shot a glance at me, understanding lighting up his face. And then something wicked flashed in his eyes. He was probably thinking the same thing I was thinking: inquisition time. Eric would not be immune. As a matter of fact, he would probably have it the worst out of everyone that had ever tried to date my brother or me.

"So, Eric… do you have any projects coming up soon?" asked my mom first. She was a true movie nut, so this question could have been professional curiosity… I doubted it.

"Not yet. My manager has received a few scripts but nothing seems very interesting. I've been working almost nonstop these past two years, so I'm in no hurry to go back to work yet," he answered honestly. I was listening intently. My mom had found my words and was asking the questions that my speechlessness had silenced.

"I think that's very wise. It's good to take time off and rest. Is there anything about to come out that you worked on recently?" my mom pressed. She knew there could still be a movie in the works. All I knew is that his answer to this question was going to be very important. Eric would have to leave while promoting a movie and it would take a long time for him to come back.

"Actually, yes. There are two movies still in post-production. One is due to come out in September, the other one right before Thanksgiving," he said, while digging in. He looked genuinely hungry. I was only half aware of his eating. I was thinking that I would have him around for about 2 months before he had to go promote the first movie.

"What are they about?" asked my mom. She was having a ball, I could tell. She wasn't thinking that he would leave. She was thinking that he would take me with him.

"The one that's coming out in September is an ensemble-type romantic comedy, and the one coming out in Thanksgiving is the sequel to the vampire one that came out last year," he answered good-naturedly. He didn't mind talking about his movies at all, only when it interrupted his eating. My mom pushed the bowl of potato salad at him when she saw he'd eaten his entire first helping. He helped himself to another heaping spoonful and continued eating heartily. It was clear that my mom approved. She was very much like all moms: worried that the kids weren't eating enough, and ecstatic when they helped themselves to more.

We continued our meal making small talk about the weather (it would thunderstorm later tonight), about all of us taking Eric's sailboat to our favorite beach, and then taking my dad's boat to our favorite haunt for burgers and beer. Dinner was pleasant, and I was able to calm myself enough to eat something. My mom served coffee and cake afterwards, and Eric was literally shoveling the cake in his mouth.

"This was delicious," he said when he finished, leaning back in his chair. As he did so, a rumble of thunder made us all sit up.

"Uh-oh… it's starting. You kids might want to make your way back before you get stuck here for the night," said my dad, getting up from his chair to take a look out the back windows. We said our goodbyes, and Eric and I headed out the front door this time. We walked to my house in silence, slowly. I didn't want to say goodnight to him, and he was probably too full to walk any faster. We got to my door and I hesitated as I opened it. His hands were at my waist almost immediately, and his mouth was on mine. His kisses tasted of coffee and cake and him, and my heart started hammering against my chest. I threw my arms around his neck and brought him down to me. He pulled away first, but only to look at me.

"Will you go out with me tomorrow?" he asked. He seemed unsure of my answer.

"Where are we going?" I asked. I hated to answer a question with a question, but I also didn't want him to think I was too eager, though I was.

He scrunched up his nose and pursed his lips. "I actually don't know. I only want to spend time with you."

His confession made my heart soar and my lips part into a smile. "We can go to the beach, or we can go sightseeing," a low peal of thunder interrupted whatever else I was about to offer.

"Come to my house for breakfast," he kissed me lightly. "Then we can," kiss, "go to the," kiss, "beach." Kiss, kiss, kiss.

"Sounds like a plan," I said, not really wanting to let go of him but knowing I had to. I wondered if I would have nightmares tonight after such a pleasant day, with yet another pleasant day to look forward to.

Eric bit his lower lip, smiling. "Thank you for spending the afternoon with me today. It's been the loveliest day I've had in a very long time."

I looked down and smiled. I'd barely done anything to warrant his gratitude. He lifted my chin with a finger, so he could look into my eyes again. "Good night, Sookie."

"Good night, Eric," I managed to breathe out. After I closed the door, my knees decided they couldn't hold me anymore. I sank to the floor of the tiny foyer, and was quickly surrounded by hungry cats.

In the solitude of my house I could finally indulge in the miracle that had just happened. Eric Northman, incredibly gorgeous movie star, my new neighbor… he kissed me. He kissed me lots of times. He'd touched me, physically and in other ways. He'd taken my bruised and battered heart, and tried to mend it with gentle words and actions. _But will he stick around to see it through_? I didn't know.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

During my usual morning walk with my mom, I told her where I was going and who I was going with. She nodded with a tiny smile on her face. In her mind she had moved on to trips to Disney with her grandchildren. I didn't need to be a mind reader to know her heart's desire, and she wisely didn't say anything out loud.

At home I chose my bathing suit carefully, all the while battling the butterflies in my stomach. I thought it would be too soon to wear a bikini in front of Eric, so I chose a tankini instead. It ended just above my navel, so it still showed a little bit of skin, but not too much to make me uncomfortable. I wore a polo shirt dress to cover up, and headed next door with my beach bag. The butterflies were still there, and I had lost my appetite, so I was nervous that I wouldn't eat his food.

When Eric opened the door he met me with a radiant smile that immediately calmed the butterflies and almost made me sigh in relief. Nothing had changed between us overnight, as I had feared, and I could relax into the knowledge that we would indeed enjoy a nice day together.

"Good morning! Come on in," he said, taking my bag and setting it on top of a tall table. The smell of bacon and coffee permeated the house, and I actually became hungry… thank God! Nothing would have been more embarrassing than having to turn down food from him, simply because my stomach refused to accept it.

Eric's kitchen was like mine, and since his dining room was otherwise occupied by a baby grand, he used his kitchen table for all meals. Not that I was expecting him to break out the good china and the crystal. "Asseyez vous, s'il vous plait, mademoiselle," he said, holding a chair for me. I giggled at his French. I was about to blow his socks off.

"Que faites-vous pour le petit dejeuner?" _Ha, ha! Take that!_

Eric turned to me and smiled. "You parlez, huh? Is that the only language?" I knew he wanted to one-up me.

"I speak English and Spanish fluently," then I scrunched my face. "But sometimes I can't understand what the British say, depending on their accent or what they're referring to." I was making fun of him, just a little tiny bit. He caught on.

Eric smiled his contagious smile and pointed at one of the pans on the stove. "Like if I answered your question by telling you I'm making a toad in the hole?"

My eyes grew wide. "You were speaking French, but I never imagined you'd cook frog." I didn't think he had, not with bacon, anyway.

He laughed. "Come look."

My heart skipped a beat at the thought of getting close to him. How could someone make me react that way? It was as if I was still crushing on him. Maybe I was… Right now he looked so cute with his gray T-shirt and black board shorts. I got close and peered into the pan. It was just a hollowed piece of toast with a fried egg inside it. It actually looked really good.

I turned around and he was staring at me with purpose. "May I kiss you?" he asked, but didn't wait for the answer. He caught my upper lip with his and breathed in deep at the same time. He broke the kiss and put his forehead against mine. "I've been wishing to kiss you all night." I smiled and moved my face up, kissing him again softly, timidly, before pulling away and turning to sit back down.

The truth was I'd forgotten how to be with someone. I'd forgotten how close, how intimate, two people could be. I wanted Eric to remind me, but I also didn't want to force him into anything. I'd felt like if I hadn't walked away from the kiss, I would have given him everything, right then and there. I wasn't sure I was ready. I wasn't even sure it was something one could ever be ready for.

Now I was worried he was mad at me for walking away. My worry dissipated when he delivered my breakfast with an ear-to-ear smile. I had to return it, I had to. "I hope you like it. I slaved all morning," he said, fanning himself with his hand. I giggled in response, once again speechless, and now acting like a teenager. Terrific.

He sat next to me and had served himself significantly more than he'd given me. Not that I was complaining: he'd been generous with my plate too. We started eating in silence, until he gave me an exasperated sigh that made me jump in my chair. "I can hear the wheels turning, Sookie. What is it you want to ask me?"

How did he do _that_? He was absolutely right. "I was wondering how well you played the piano and if you'd play for me," I blurted out, all the words meshing together like a bad car wreck.

He chuckled. "I'll play for you one of these days," he said and stretched his hand out. He was asking for mine. I slipped my hand into his, feeling how his fingers easily tangled with mine. "I haven't played in a while," he confessed, searching my expression.

I lowered my eyes immediately. What had I done? "I'm… I'm so sorry, I didn't mean…"

"Sookie, it's alright. There was no way for you to know," he said in his soft voice. I dared to look up again and his eyes were clear of any pain I may have caused. He was only trying to calm me down. I tried to smile, though I suspect it looked more like a grimace.

"So tell me," he started eating again, "What beach are we going to?"

I took a deep breath. I would do this right. I could do this. "As you know this area is within a bay, so there aren't any nice beaches. We have to travel down to Fort Myers or up to Englewood."

"Which one do you like best?" he asked.

"Englewood," I said immediately. The beach wasn't as pretty as Sanibel or Captiva, but there were less people to deal with. I had to admit that I was a little concerned that Eric was a famous person that I sorta-kinda needed to keep safe.

We had a little discussion about which car to take while I helped him clean the kitchen. I argued my car, so his wouldn't get dirty with sand, and he argued his car, because he had asked me out on the date. As soon as I was done putting the dry dishes away in his cupboard, he'd turned me around and cupped my face. His blue eyes did not let go of my gaze, not even when he bent to kiss my lips softly. "I'm driving," he whispered, his lips a hair's breadth away from mine.

"Nu-uh," I shook my head as best I could within his hands.

He took my bottom lip between his, pulling gently, then planted a full mouth kiss around my own mouth. "I'm driving Sookie," his voice had a hint of warning in it.

"No," I said, looking at him. My hands traveled to his sides, to hold on. My knees had grown a little wobbly, my heart was pounding a hard beat, and my breath was coming faster.

Eric turned my face at a slight angle, brushing my lips with his. "Yield to me, Sookie," he said, before crushing my lips into a passionate kiss. I moaned into his mouth and opened mine to allow his tongue free rein. I took a deep breath, taking in his own unique scent, letting it fill my nose like his tongue filled my mouth. I started to feel like chocolate pudding again, and the sweet sensation was pooling at the bottom of my belly.

He pulled away too soon. "I'm driving," he said with ragged breath. I nodded, swallowing hard, making my fingers let go of his shirt, and watching his face light up with a satisfied grin. That's how he'd won that small argument.

My cell phone rang in my bag, making me jump in surprise. Eric stepped away reluctantly so I could go answer it.

"Come by the house before you leave," my mom said. "I put together a cooler to take to the beach."

I smiled. Of course she had. "Thanks, Mom. I'll be over in a minute. We'll be leaving soon."

With a cooler full of water, sandwiches and chips, and my beach bag which now contained Eric's towel as well as mine and a beach blanket (plus some SPF-15 lotion), we set off to Englewood beach.

The morning was gorgeous, with not a cloud in the sky. It was still early enough that the temperature was still pleasant, and thunderstorms wouldn't threaten until well into the late afternoon. We chose a quiet spot near the water and away from the main entrance to the beach from the parking lot. Eric helped me spread the blanket on the sand and we held it in place with various articles of clothing at each corner.

I heard a low grumble come from Eric's chest right after I took off my dress. It made me wonder what was wrong and I looked down at myself.

"Sookie," he called to me, making me look back up with a question in my eyes. His face was open and admiring. "You look beautiful. I will have a difficult time keeping my hands to myself."

My heart skipped a beat and I felt the heat rise. I was sure my whole skin flushed at the compliment. And, of course, I looked down and retreated into my shell, trying to hide a smile. I got the lotion out of my bag and when I looked up again, Eric was still staring and now he was smiling, eyeing the lotion in my hand.

"Do you need help?" he asked me, nodding at the bottle.

I nodded and handed him the lotion, turned around and closed my eyes in anticipation. His touch was warm and sure on my skin, spreading the lotion over my exposed back and shoulders. His hands roamed over my upper arms, even though I could reach them easily. I was not about to stop him. It felt good to be touched again, and his touch was gentle. I turned around before he decided to do my legs too.

"Your turn," I announced, and took the lotion from him. He rolled his eyes, like an unwilling little kid, but turned around and let me tend to his back. His skin was already freckled. He was too light to stay bare in the harsh Florida sun. I loved running my hands over his skin and muscles with a legitimate reason. I made sure to spread lotion over his whole back, on his neck, and over his shoulders. I got the tops of his ears while I was at it, and when he turned back around I got his face too. I finally stopped, and was about to hand him the lotion so he could finish when he pushed it back at me.

"You haven't finished," he said shaking his head. He was dead serious. I took a deep breath to calm my trembling fingers and set to work on his chest, the chest I had admired over and over in a movie. I ran my hand over his shoulder blades, then over his pecs, caressing the soft downy blond hair there. Eric reacted when I touched his left nipple, then the right, making him catch his breath each time. I watched, rapt, as the nipples hardened right after my touch, small, pink and begging to be touched again. My own body betrayed me, my breasts becoming heavy and begging for his touch, my nipples mirroring his and pushing against my top.

I looked up, to gauge his reaction at my bold touch. His eyes were trained on my breasts, his right hand slowly coming up with every intention of touching. My breath hitched when his hand hovered, so close that if I'd taken a deep breath my breast would have delivered itself into his hand. He moved his hand up and cupped my neck, tearing his gaze from my heaving chest and settling it on my eyes.

He gauged my reaction too for a short moment, before giving me a smile. "Are we ready to go in the water? Are we covered with enough lotion?" he asked.

I had to return his contagious smile. "Yes," I breathed finally.

We giggled, running to the water and splashing everywhere. The sea was very calm today, almost like a mirror, and the water was blue and clear. Eric brought his hands above his head and dove in once the water was waist deep, and I mirrored him. I'm a great swimmer, and though he'd been the better runner, I quickly reached him once inside the water. It helped that I was used to opening my eyes in the salty water, so I could see where I was going, and he had left them closed so he was zigzagging. I reached and pulled on his hand, making him return to me.

Both our heads broke the surface of the water at the same time to take a breath. We were both still giggling. He stood, watching as I floated near him. He was so tall that he was standing where I couldn't reach. Instead of standing, I started twirling in the water, using my legs and arms to go around in circles. I knew he was watching me, and for once I wasn't shy.

"You haven't told me about your family," I said, forgetting the twirling and floating in place.

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything you want to tell me," I answered. Duh.

He smiled. "My mom lives in Scotland, my sister in London." Eric reached for me, but I was faster and dove out of reach. He dove after me, chasing me. He might have been the stronger swimmer, but I was definitely the fastest, especially when I dove under the surface.

We both resurfaced at the same time after a few minutes of him chasing me. "You're like a bullet," he said. His hair was a mess, and a smile was playing on his lips.

"I've been swimming since I can remember," I told him. "In Louisiana we had a lake next to our house, and Jason and I used to go swimming there since we were old enough to walk. My dad kept a boat at a bigger lake, and we'd go fishing and swimming. We also tried to spend as many summers at the beach as we could."

Eric reached for me again, and this time I didn't run away. He took my hands and pulled me to him, guiding my arms over his shoulders and around his neck, not once letting go of my gaze. My heart was beating wildly, and the butterflies in my stomach were dancing to the now-familiar tune. I tried really hard to make my legs stay down, instead of wrapping around his hips like they wanted to do.

"I'll tell you about my family," he said, brushing a stray strand of hair behind one of my ears. "My parents taught at the University of Essex, and I grew up in Colchester. It's about 60 miles from London. They say it's the oldest town in England because it was there when the Romans were there," he said, watching me cautiously, maybe thinking I would rebut the town's claims. Since I didn't say anything, he continued. "My father passed away a few years ago, and my mother retired and moved to Scotland. My sister owns a bar in London."

"What are their names?" I pressed gently.

He smiled. "I was named after my father, my mother is Sophie, and my sister is Pamela, but we call her Pam."

"Do you miss them?" I asked. If I had to stay worlds away from my family, I would be devastated. Even the distance between Louisiana and Florida had been too much when my parents moved away.

"A bit," he conceded. "We keep in touch. I talk to my mom every other day and email Pam almost every day." He took a deep breath and looked beyond me. "The distance notwithstanding, we got closer after the death of my wife."

I felt the need to soothe him somehow. I put my hand to his cheek, noticing the day's worth of dark blond scruff and liking it. _I'm here now, I can take the pain away_, I said silently, willing him to listen to my brain waves because my mouth refused to form the words. He cut his eyes to me and hugged me closer.

We spent the rest of the early afternoon filling each other in on our lives, or as much as we were willing to share (he was open; I was not, not completely). We ate lunch and even managed to take a short nap side by side on the blanket. My nap was thankfully devoid of nightmares. The clouds started rolling in, as they're wont to do in Florida, and we headed home. We stopped and grabbed an early dinner to go at the diner, and took it to my house.

"I can't believe I'm so hungry," Eric said, digging into a huge burger with onion rings big enough to fit around my wrist as bangles.

"Me too," I said. "The beach always does it to me." I'd ordered an open-face Reuben, and was spilling all kinds of stuff on my dress.

I was happy that we had spent the day together. The butterflies in my stomach had settled, for the most part, and my heart beat normally… unless he looked at me, or touched me. He hadn't kissed me again at the beach. I guess he was trying to earn my trust. He'd earned much more than that, but I refused to say it, even to myself. Unfortunately that was just a hopeless attempt at closing the barn door after the horse had escaped. I had fallen. I had fallen hard.

We agreed he'd take a shower and change at his house and then join me again so we could watch a movie. When he left, instead of going straight to take a shower, I started doing laundry, feeding the cats, cleaning the litter (again, since I was having company), making sure the kitchen was spotless, changing the sheets of my bed. A girl needs to be prepared for every eventuality. I didn't even notice that I'd used up all my time until Eric rang my doorbell.

He frowned when he saw me. "Were you busy?" I breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't mad at seeing me still in beach gear. He was wondering if he'd interrupted me.

"I'm sorry, I did get busy. Come in," I said and stepped aside. I must have looked a fright, still crusty with sun and sand. "I really need to take a shower. Do you mind waiting for me a few minutes? It won't take me long," I said, almost grimacing. If anything happened tonight, I wanted to at least be clean. I wasn't hoping. I was just being practical. Or, at least, that's what I told myself.

"Of course I'll wait for you. I'll play with your TV," he announced and moved towards the living room. He expertly grabbed the remotes and sat down on my couch. "Does it recline?" he asked incredulous, feeling around the side of the couch for the lever, and finding it.

"Yes it does. I love it," I said matter-of-factly.

"I'm starting to love it too," he said reclining back. He looked at me where I stood. I wasn't sure what I was still doing standing there… other than mesmerized by this creature in my living room who was now enjoying the comforts of my reclining sofa. "Sookie, love… the quicker you take your shower the quicker I can have you back," he said smiling wickedly. I smiled biting my lip and walked away reluctantly.

The shower only made me more nervous. I washed my hair and shaved my legs, all in record time. I even dried my hair a little bit so I wasn't walking around with dripping wet hair. I put on a pair of lounge pants and a tighter than usual t-shirt. At the very least I would look better than I had in the past few days, even though I wasn't technically dressed up.

When I made my way to the living room my heart skipped a beat. Eric had found the movies I had been watching on my queue, and had chosen _his_ movie to watch. I wasn't sure how he would react to the fact that I'd considered him eye candy just a day ago… could he know that? NOW I'd done it… He would think I was just a crazy fan or something. Though I liked his work, I wasn't crazy about him in a fanatical way. I cared if I had hurt him with my movie choices. Maybe I was crazy after all.

He turned to look at me and took in my expression. He stood up and came to me, putting his arms around me.

"Are you okay? I can go home," he said, but his eyes told me it would hurt him to go home. At the same time I wondered why he always asked me whether or not I was okay. So I took a deep breath before answering him honestly.

"Eric…" his name was always so nice to say. "I want you to stay as long as you want to stay. I was just concerned that my movie choices made you think that I was a crazy fan, or be mad at me," I said moving my eyes down to look at his neck. I was watching his Adam's apple move as he spoke.

"Sookie… my love, how could I be mad at your movie choices? That's a bit silly. Besides, you have more movies in your queue featuring that crazy Australian Hugh Jackman than me. I thought maybe you liked him more," he said smiling. "Come. We'll watch some non-movie TV," he continued, pulling me to the couch.

He sat down first on one of the reclining ends, and was about to have me sit down next to him when he noticed me. He had been more concerned about what I was feeling than what I was wearing. That was good… but he was concerned about my outfit now. He looked me up and down, a slow smile of a different kind forming on his lips. I was starting to feel self-conscious, but the thought was quickly put out of my mind when that chocolate-pudding feeling attacked me again.

"That outfit won't make it easy for me to behave like a gentleman," he said softly. He pulled me to him, he was sitting and I was still standing. He was so tall compared to me that his head was about level with my breasts. My breath became fast and shallow as I took in his expression. He put both hands on my waist and lifted my shirt just a couple of inches. He ducked his head to put his lips on my bare belly. "You smell delicious," he murmured against my skin. I closed my eyes and tried to keep from fainting. His fingers moved up my back, and then made their way forward again. He stopped suddenly.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

I opened my eyes and looked at him. "No. But you're driving me crazy. It's been a long time since I've been close to anyone, even my husband," I added. I was going to have to tell him everything eventually. I would start by hinting at what happened, and maybe Eric would catch up without me having to say everything out loud. He sighed, putting his forehead against my belly. I put both my hands on his hair and stroked it.

"I'm so sorry, Sookie. I realize this is way too fast for you. But you drive me crazy too, and it's been longer for me. You've been so lovely to me. It's more than I deserve… to even be here next to you… for you to allow me to touch you in any way," he said. His neck muscles flexed as he spoke. All I wanted was his smile to come back.

"Don't be sorry," I said, pulling his face up. "I can say the same about you. You saved me the other day, and you keep saving me. If only you knew how much I've truly appreciated having you with me. You were right…" I sighed. "I have been lost. But I'm not feeling that way anymore, thanks to you. And I like it, very much, that you touch me… because I want to touch you too," I said, my hands still stroking his hair, caressing his face. I explored every one of his features and he held perfectly still. His eyes were a beautiful blue, his pupils large now inside my dim living room, following my every move. His nose was long and straight. His chin was strong, and his lips… oh, his lips. I wanted to kiss him so bad. It was my turn. I cupped his face in my hands and bent to him. I kissed him softly, and he let me lead this time. But just because he was letting me lead the kiss didn't mean he wasn't in control. His hands moved down my waist, past my hips. He pulled one of my legs up to the couch and had me kneeling above him in half a second. Then he reached back inside my shirt, holding my waist again, his touch hot against my skin. I couldn't help myself anymore. The kiss turned into something else. We were making out. He seemed reluctant to touch me in a more sexual way, and kept his hands off my more erotic zones. But that didn't mean he didn't want me. I could tell he did. Nevertheless, I was grateful he was keeping the kiss PG-13, for the most part.

It seemed we made out for a very long time. The movie that had been playing was almost over when we stopped. A thunderstorm was raging outside. Even my cats had come out of their hiding places to see why the stranger hadn't moved around the house.

Just because we had stopped didn't mean we were about to let go of each other. He was studying me just like I was studying him. Finally I put both of my hands on his shoulders and sighed, looking down. I started to pull away but he held me tight.

"Wait," he said gently. He seemed to be struggling for words. I didn't like it. It could only mean that he was about to deliver bad news.

"Before you and I get more serious, I want you to understand how complicated my life can be," he said. He looked at me; there was fear in his eyes. Huh?

"We could get insanely lucky and actually be able to be normal for a little bit, but the minute I go back to do my job everyone will find out about us. I try to keep to myself as much as possible, and I've been able to stay off the tabloids for the most part, but that means little. They could come after you, and you need to know," he said. The fear mingled with pain at the last sentence. He was worried about them coming after me.

"I don't know what to say to that," I admitted. I didn't want to be without him for as long as he wanted me, but that could change if I had people snapping my picture every time I went anywhere. I understood that much. "How about we take it one step at a time, and deal with whatever comes later?" I suggested. By his own admission, we could get lucky and be normal.

"I wanted you to be warned. I lead a strange life away from home, with everyone wanting to know everything about me. You have every right to be apprehensive or to not want to be with me," he said, but his expression told me he was hoping I would stick around. I took a deep breath.

"I'll take my chances. I don't want to be without you," I mumbled, and ducked my head onto his shoulder to hide my face. This put me very close to his neck, and temptation. I kissed his neck very softly, over and over wherever I could reach. I felt him shiver as he pulled me closer. I rearranged myself and ended up sitting on his lap, snuggled against him, and laid my head on his shoulder. He was looking for something to watch on TV, holding the remote with one hand, and holding me close to him with another. I suddenly felt very sleepy. I'd had a busy day and it was catching up with me… not that it hadn't been a wonderful day.

**TBC**


	5. Fumbling Towards Ecstasy

**A/N: **Welcome to my tender lemons, those of you who haven't read them. :-)

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**Chapter 5 – Fumbling Towards Ecstasy**

_I rearranged myself and ended up sitting on his lap, snuggled against him, and laid my head on his shoulder. He was looking for something to watch on TV, holding the remote with one hand, and holding me close to him with another. I suddenly felt very sleepy. I'd had a busy day and it was catching up with me… not that it hadn't been a wonderful day._

I woke up crying and confused. I was in bed and it was dark. This time I'd had a different nightmare, a different memory. I was remembering the things I had found two days before Bill's death. I was remembering how I had felt: the betrayal, the hopelessness, the emotional pain. And then I remembered the physical pain when Bill had hit me when I confronted him. I felt a movement next to me that startled me and made me jump.

"Sookie, darling, I'm here. You're okay, sweetheart, I'm here," said Eric in the darkness. His arms were what had startled me. He had been trying to hold me. I started crying that much harder. I cringed at his touch, but he didn't let go. He didn't know what was making me behave that way, and he wanted to comfort me. "It's okay, I'm here," he whispered, over and over. I calmed down after several minutes, my breathing returned to normal, and my sobs had turned to silent tears. I was getting his shirt wet, but he was not about to let go. He had me curled up against him, his arms holding me tight, keeping me together.

"Thanks for staying," I whispered. "I'm sorry you had to see that," I continued. This wasn't something I would have shared with a date. But this relationship felt like _more_: more than just "Eric and Sookie are dating." Maybe it was more. Maybe, since there weren't that many people who shared our kind of loss at our age, _maybe this was more_.

"My love… Are you apologizing for having bad dreams?" he didn't expect me to answer. His voice was gentle, a whisper too. "Sleep now. I'll be here when you wake up," I obeyed and closed my eyes. I buried my face in his chest and took a deep breath, taking in his scent.

When I woke up again it was a little bright in my room. It was only 7 in the morning. I could be counted on to wake up early. Eric and I had drifted apart during the rest of the night, but we were both still under my covers. He was still fast asleep, breathing deeply. I couldn't help but stare. His hair was a mess, which made me smile. He was human after all, not some magical being that always looked flawless and perfect. And I was human too… I snuck out of bed as carefully as possible and went to the bathroom, closing the door behind me very silently. I brushed my teeth and rummaged inside my cabinet to see if I had an extra toothbrush. Buddy was in there hiding. I found the toothbrush, still it its packaging, and put it on my counter just in case Eric needed it. I put my hair up in a ponytail and went back out to my bedroom.

And there he was, in all his glory, lounging on my bed and awake. His stare brought me up short, but his smile melted me and made me smile too. His smiles were contagious. I liked it that he had so many of them for me.

"Good morning… I left you a new toothbrush in case you need it," I said pointing to the bathroom over my shoulder. For some reason I didn't dare come any closer to him. I felt embarrassed by the nightmare. His smile faded and he looked pensive. He stood up and reached for me, sat me down on the edge of the bed and pointed at me with one finger.

"Stay," he said. His face was serious, so I stayed where I was while I watched him walking backwards into the bathroom. He closed the door and I waited impatiently. What had I done? I was looking at my feet and thinking, dangling my legs because my bed was so tall and I couldn't reach the floor sitting like I was. Was he mad at me because I'd had a nightmare? Or because of the way I'd reacted to it? Or had he figured out I was keeping a secret from him? When he came out I was still looking at my feet. Something close to shame was starting to creep up on me. He stood in front of me and lifted my chin up gently.

"Good morning," he said. His smile was so beautiful. My heart jumped just by looking at him, and I knew everything was fine. He caught my hand and put it to his chest. His heart was jumping too… wow! He bit his lip and his eyebrows furrowed.

"May I kiss you?" he asked. I stared at him blankly for a second. Why was he asking? I wanted nothing more. I nodded.

He leaned down to me, his mouth soft on mine. My free hand reached to his neck, moved to his hair, rested there. He freed his hands only to grab me and push me farther up on the bed. I understood the question now. He was asking for a different kind of permission. We didn't stop kissing as I retreated back into the bed and he followed me in, crawling between my legs, his arms at either side of me. I sank into a pillow and he lied on top of me, being careful not to crush me. I didn't know how he would stop himself from making love to me now. We were hungry for each other. I made it clear by undoing the buttons on his shirt, my hands roaming over his chest, down his back. He knelt between my legs and finished taking off his shirt. He reached for mine and pulled it over my head. His eyes widened with want. I was still wearing my bra when he descended on my chest, grabbing my breasts, sucking my skin to then plant kiss after kiss. I was beyond reason now, gasping for air. He stopped suddenly, putting his head on my chest, his mouth resting on my breast. I noticed my legs had formed a vise around him on their own accord.

"So beautiful," he whispered, his hand was now tugging the cup of my bra down to expose my breast. He cupped it and kissed it, worshipped it. He moved his face up, kissing everywhere: my chest, my shoulder, my neck, sending electric impulses down my spine as he caressed my bare skin. "I'm trying very hard not to take advantage of you. Please tell me to stop and I will," he whispered in my ear after he had kissed it.

"I can't. I want you Eric," I said. I didn't care if he was taking advantage of me. I was taking advantage of him. He'd told me he'd been without longer than me, and if that was true then he must have been desperate. I was desperate, but not for just anybody. I wanted _him_. I ran my fingers down his back ever so softly, and marveled at his reaction. His skin was first, growing goose bumps. Then he shivered. And then he finished taking off my clothes so he could keep kissing me everywhere.

His mouth on my body made me heat up with raw desire, and when his clever tongue made a path from my navel down to my center, I felt like lava was spilling from me. He kissed my little nub before licking around it, making me hold on to the sheets so I wouldn't float away with the intense sensation. My breath hitched before coming in short gasps, until I let go of reality and exploded under Eric's mouth.

Eric knelt between my legs again, lowering his body against and into mine, holding himself up with one arm and guiding with another. I looked down between us, seeing his length disappear at the same time that it filled me. I gasped. He was so big, and he was being so gentle. He lowered his body, pressing me into the bed as his mouth searched for mine. I tasted myself on him at the same time that he moved inside me and made me moan with the pleasure of being his.

We made love slowly, wanting to savor every minute. I could not let him go, so I pressed him to me tighter, my arms around him, my legs around him, his body around mine. He rolled onto his back, taking me with him. He sat me up so his hands could caress every inch they could reach, so he could look at me. I was just as mesmerized by him as he seemed to be by me. His bare chest was a little tanned from the day before. His long arms were sinewy, like his legs. He was enjoying my touch on his skin; that much I could tell. He sat up too, which pushed me back. I held myself up with my arms behind me, completely at Eric's mercy. He ran his hands down my whole body and I couldn't hold it in any longer: my senses were hyperaware of every part of my body, his body, everything. Everything and nothing at the same time. I didn't want to, but I had to close my eyes as I exploded once more on top of him, and the next thing I knew he had rolled me onto my back again and was on top of me, his low growl in my ear told me he was having the same kind of explosion I'd just had. The growl turned into a gasp of pleasure, and he held me tighter, shivering with spent need for a few long moments. Before he could crush me under his body he rolled, pulling me along to lay me half on top of him. It took us a little bit to recover. We spent some quiet time in each other's arms, his fingers making a slow circuit around my back, my arm.

"Sookie…" he whispered against my forehead, where just a moment before he had planted a soft kiss. "You are mine now," he said. The way he said that, it didn't sound like a warning. It sounded like he was amazed that we had made love.

"And you are mine," I said, holding myself closer to him.

"Yes, darling, of course I am. You have totally and thoroughly made me fall in love with you," he said. I held my breath at that statement, and he seemed to know some of what I was thinking. I was thinking that he couldn't possibly be in love with me. Not with me. He turned to me to look at me.

"You must know that. From the very first time I saw you, the minute you growled at your garden… And then when I saw you coming out of your house in the wee hours while I was swimming. I was hoping you'd join me, but you ran away. Then I heard you singing…" he drifted, smiling at me because my eyes had gone wide with shock. I didn't know I'd been singing THAT loud! "And you sounded so beautiful. But what made me sure was the way you listened to me and understood me. It probably sounds selfish, that I want to be with you because you understand me. Nobody else has, you see? Not even my family…" he said, his eyes turning sad.

"I don't think that's selfish. I feel the same way. It seems you're a little lonelier than me, though. I at least have my parents nearby, who try to understand. I lost all my friends," I said. I was starting to feel sad too. "I'm in love with you too," I admitted, his gaze still holding mine, and I knew that I felt it with all my heart. His answering smile was just gorgeous.

"You've made me so happy," he said, as he pulled me up to kiss me. My heart soared.

"What should we do today? I don't think we should spend it in bed, though I'd like nothing better," he whispered in my ear. His stomach was the first to complain, though mine wasn't far behind.

"I think we should start with breakfast, and move on from there," I said, reluctantly pulling myself away. As I got dressed I watched him get dressed too, and I was a little embarrassed when he caught me staring as he shrugged into his shirt. He thought my expression meant something else.

"What's wrong? Other than you seeing me in the same clothes I was wearing yesterday," Eric asked looking down at himself, a hint of humor in his voice.

"Nothing's wrong. You caught me staring," I said sheepishly. When he looked up at me his eyes had turned sultry. I realized he was staring at my more erotic zones, some of which were still uncovered.

"If you don't mind, I'll stare right back," he said moving closer. I was suddenly having trouble hooking up my bra. I couldn't think of how to make my fingers work while he was staring at me that way. He moved closer still and put his arms around me and hooked my bra for me, but his hands didn't stop touching me. He bent his head to kiss the top of my breasts, ever so softly. "You smell so good," he mumbled against my skin. Then he reached for my shirt and pulled it on me.

We walked hand in hand to my kitchen and I started making coffee. He started rummaging in my fridge. I just let him. I was about to tell him that I'd make breakfast, but I figured he'd want to help. He took out eggs, ham and cheese and set them on the counter next to the stove.

"You. Sit," he said pointing at my table, then turning back to my cabinets to find a pan.

"Alright, bossy," I said smiling. He smiled too.

"I like cooking for you," he said. I watched him make omelets, working quickly around the kitchen. He only let me nearby because I was grabbing some coffee.

We ate in silence, both too hungry to make much conversation. Only when we were full and happy did we start brainstorming.

"So, about your plans for today… _Did_ you have anything planned?" he asked.

"Not at all. Lately I've been taking things one day at a time. What about you?" I asked him.

"Nope. Nothing. I do need to buy a new car, but that's no fun. I'll do that on a day you're busy," he said shrugging.

"What's wrong with your car?" I asked. I'd fallen in love with the beautiful machine, how it smelled of him, how it purred down the street. I'd trade him cars any day.

"It's a bit conspicuous in this part of Florida. I wanted something a little bit less flashy."

"We can use my car," I offered.

"Yes, sweetheart. When I'm with you we can use your car," he said, reaching for my hand. God, I was smitten! I tried to put my thoughts back together. His touch had scattered them.

"How about you tell me where you can go and where you can't? After all, you're the famous celebrity," I said, sipping some more of my coffee.

"For now I can go anywhere. Nobody knows I'm here," he said grinning. But then he pursed his lips.

"I do need to take a shower, though. I think I stink," he said, and the smile came back. I laughed at that, because I'd been smelling him for a whole day now, and he far from stunk.

"No you don't. But I need one too. Shall we reconvene in half an hour?" I asked. He looked at me seriously, deep in thought.

"Stay," he ordered me, standing up suddenly. He WAS bossy. "I'll be right back," he said, walking towards my back door. I shrugged, and took a moment to check my email. I was done by the time he came back, a bundle tucked under one of his arms: clean clothes. I smiled and moved towards his beckoning finger.

He dropped his bundle on my bed and started taking off my clothes. I took his clothes off as well, letting my fingers linger here and there. He was excited to see me naked, that much was clear. My fingers had lingered over and around his excitement. We got in the shower. We were able to completely bathe before our lust took over once more. He lifted me and I held onto his neck, the cold wall on my back. He was inside me again, and this time it was rougher, needier. I liked it a bit too much, giving his shoulder tiny bites to spur him on. He started moving faster within me, and I exploded with something that sounded like a held back scream. His growl in my ear became deeper and longer than earlier. It was like we had known what to do earlier, but now we were experts.

"I wasn't expecting that," he said, setting me back down on the floor gently, looking into my eyes. His face had an expression of wonder. Mine became skeptical.

"You didn't know we would make love again once we saw each other naked?" I asked, trying to contain a full laugh, but giggling. He chuckled too.

"That's not what I meant, beautiful girl. I was hoping we could have what we had earlier, but this was much better. Much, much better," he repeated, leaning down to kiss me. "You are too sexy, I can't control myself," he said when he pulled away.

"Let's go buy you a car," I said (not believing for a second that I was "too sexy," or sexy at all), anything so that we wouldn't spend the day indoors. Not that I didn't want to spend the day making love, but I would feel guilty afterwards. Besides, we had the night.

We dried ourselves stealing glances at each other's naked bodies. Eric left me when he was done, since the rest of his toiletries were on my bed. I came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around myself, lest my naked body started some more lusty activity. He was buttoning his shirt when I came out – darn! I wanted to dress in something interesting, but I settled for jeans, a tee, and sandals… standard fare for Florida in June. He wasn't any dressier than me, in cargo shorts and a T-shirt. But he certainly looked good. He was still watching me as I moved around my room, going to my dresser to dab on some perfume.

"Ah… there it is," he exclaimed right after I spritzed some perfume behind my neck and on my belly. He moved to me and lifted my hair from my neck, to smell me. I noticed he smelled good too. He must have brought his cologne with him… and so he had. I saw it sitting on my dresser next to his deodorant. I smiled, reminding myself again that he was human, despite all evidence to the contrary.

"When is your birthday?" he asked suddenly, pulling away.

"A little over a month from today, July 12," I answered frowning. Birthdays meant gifts… and gifts from somebody who had a lot of money meant something I would never be able to return in kind.

"And you will be…?" he pressed

"Twenty seven. Why?" I asked, curious now. The frown was still on my face. He reached up between my eyes and ran his finger to smooth the crease that had formed between my eyebrows.

"I just wanted to know. It will be a good excuse to shower you with presents," he said, but he didn't smile. He was still taking in my expression. "What's wrong, darling? You don't want presents?" he asked.

"I love presents," I said, trying to imitate his soft accent and failing. "But you can shower me with presents and I would never be able to reciprocate," I said, telling him the truth. I was never afraid of telling him the truth. He always seemed to take everything in stride. Come to think of it, he hadn't gotten mad at me yet. That was interesting. Although… he seemed a little peeved now.

"My love," he sighed and pulled me to him to hug me. I guessed he wasn't mad after all. "I am extremely lucky in that I get to do what I love and I get paid offensive amounts of money to do it. Why wouldn't I share that with you? Do you think I can take it with me? So you will be good and accept everything I buy you, and you will kiss me passionately when you receive it," he said. He had pulled away to look at my expression. When he put it that way I had no choice but to accept his condition. He smiled and I smiled back.

I called my mom while Eric went to pick up whatever paperwork he'd need in case he decided to buy a car that same day.

"I spent the morning with Eric," I told her by way of explanation as to why I hadn't joined her for her morning walk. I knew she would think I had overslept.

"Oh, that's nice. What have you guys been up to?" she asked a little suspicious.

"Nothing but breakfast so far. We're going car shopping now. I told him I'd help," I said. It wasn't exactly true, none of it, but my mom was still a little old-fashioned when it came to intimacy.

"Alright, honey. Listen, we're having dinner at the Boat Club tonight, so you'll be on your own," she said. She knew I didn't like the Boat Club. I liked the people, but they were all my parents' age or older, so I only had so much to say to them and it made me feel uncomfortable.

"I think I can manage. Thanks, Mom," I said, and we hung up just as Eric walked back in.

"Let's go," he said, waving a stack of papers.

We drove out in my car. He looked huge sitting in it. I realized that my car was made for short people. While I drove he fiddled with the radio. He settled on a CD of the same band that was playing from my stereo while I was cleaning house the day before.

"Sing for me," he said. It almost sounded like a question.

"I don't think so," I said embarrassed.

"I'll make you sing soon," he said looking smug.

"You already did. Weren't you in the shower with me not too long ago?" I asked teasing. He looked at me, but I was trying to drive and suppress a smile.

"Sookie, I heard you singing the other day, and you were beautiful. I just wanted to hear you sing again. After all, you've seen me act more than once. It's only fair," he said. Again, he made too much sense for me to argue. I sighed.

"I'll sing for you, but we're here," I said, nodding towards the car dealership where he had wanted to stop.

The salesman that approached us, Joe, seemed to have no idea who Eric was, but one of the other salespeople, a woman, stared at us intently. I felt like a kid in a candy store. Since I wasn't the one buying the car, and money seemed to be no object, we explored almost every brand new car and truck in the lot. The salesman was beginning to despair when Eric decided to test drive an SUV. It was a Ford, and it was monstrous. He would definitely fit in this thing. The three of us piled in for the test drive. Eric was playing with all the gadgets, I was trying to not lose myself inside the vast passenger seat, and Joe sat in the back, pointing out some perk or other that the SUV had. After circling a vast area a couple of times, Eric put Joe's fears to rest and told him he would buy it. On our way home we stopped at the diner. We were both hungry. Nobody there seemed to notice Eric, not even our waitress… or maybe she was just very professional.

"That looks good," Eric said, pointing at my plate. He was halfway through polishing off his dessert, and I had barely started on mine: bread pudding with caramel sauce.

"You want?" I asked with my mouth full. He smiled and dug in. I didn't ask him before grabbing a bite of his devil's food cake. We finished each other's desserts. I was amazed by how much he'd eaten. He seemed extremely fit for someone who ate that much.

"You eat a lot. Are you pregnant?" I teased. He smiled suddenly, but his smile froze and became thoughtful.

"Not me, but you could be," he said eyeing me. He wasn't worried, he seemed hopeful. I did realize we had been extremely irresponsible by not using protection, but I had not stopped taking my pill when my husband had died. It had become routine after so many years.

"Eric, I'm on the pill. I can't get pregnant," I whispered leaning in. His smile faded a little.

"Oh… That's good," he said. He seemed disappointed. That was weird.

We dropped off my car at home and I hopped in his brand new truck. It had darker tint on the windows, nothing illegal, but still very private. He grabbed my hand as he drove us to the beach. He had been thoughtful when we left the diner, and he seemed full of questions now. I reached over to stroke his cheek. He glanced at me shooting me a half smile. That wasn't good.

"What's wrong?" I asked softly.

"I hope you don't take this question the wrong way, but I can't seem to let it go," he took a deep breath before he continued. "Why are you still taking the pill?" he said, looking sideways at my expression. Is that what was eating at him?

"I've been taking it for so many years, it's become routine. I spoke to my doctor and he saw nothing wrong. Eric, my love…" I used his words to see if I could bring him out of the funk. "The last person I was with was my husband before you, and even that was quite a while before his death," I said, throwing another hint. He looked relieved before he caught on. I saw him frown briefly, but he seemed to have decided to let it go. Either way, he seemed to be breathing easier.

"Oh… Please forgive me. I guess I was being stupidly jealous, huh?" he said, bringing my hand up to his lips.

"Not stupidly, but yes: a bit jealous. It's ok. I understand. You just need to ask me right away next time. I'll tell you whatever you want to know. There's no need to suffer over a question like that. I hated seeing you like that," I said, untangling my hand from his so I could touch his face.

"I will next time," he promised. His smile returned, beautiful and wide. "You care for me, don't you?" he said, wonder in his voice.

"Of course I do. I'm in love with you. I thought I'd made that clear," I said. I still hadn't moved my hand from his face. He was parking at the beach lot now. He turned to me, to reach for me, and I reached for him. We kissed, probably in full view of every single beachgoer. Kissing in this truck was awkward with the big console in the middle, but we still lingered for a couple of minutes.

Before we got out of the truck Eric pulled out a cool-looking pair of expensive sunglasses, and put on a well-worn cap. I took off my sandals and rolled up my jeans as far as they would go. He went barefoot too. We held hands as we walked on the beach. We weren't the only ones fully dressed walking on the beach. It wasn't an unusual thing here in Florida. We talked about our respective childhoods. He was fascinated by the stories of my Louisianan childhood.

"But what about you? Where did you grow up? In Colchester?" I asked him. We sat down on the sand.

"Yes," he said, trying to be evasive.

"That is awesome…" I said awed. "You know when I went to Spain…"

"Where in Spain?" he interrupted.

"Madrid. I spent a month there studying at the University of Madrid. Anyway, when I went to Spain we visited Toledo, Avila, and Segovia, and I often wondered how people could live there without being in perpetual awe of how old their history really was. I visited churches that were older than the so-called New World," I said shaking my head.

"When you see it every day, it becomes second nature. You don't stare in wonder at the Grand Canyon every day," he pointed out.

"But that's just it: I don't live in the Grand Canyon. I live in Florida, so to me my awe comes from this," I said pointing in the general direction of the beach, with the sun starting to creep lower in the western sky. "Weren't you awed by your own history?" I asked him. He seemed to think about it.

"I was, but only when I understood it. Since I had lived around it all my life, I didn't see it for what it was. I visited a small Greek island that has been inhabited continuously, as recorded, since before the Greeks called themselves Greeks. People still live there, living very similarly as they have for thousands of years, adding the usual creature comforts that modernity affords us… What I'm trying to say is that I understand, but not as it relates to my hometown," he said.

"And your mom still lives there?" I asked, forgetting what he'd said the day before. I was only human.

"My dad passed away several years ago. My mom moved to Scotland when she retired. I promise to show you my town when we go visit her," he said smiling a wicked smile. So… he wanted to take me to Great Britain to meet his mom. My heart skipped a beat.

He was looking at me and I felt a little peeved that I couldn't see his eyes. I reached up to take his sunglasses off. He didn't move. I put the sunglasses on my shirt and looked at him now. In the dimming western sun his eyes were the most gorgeous blue, like sea glass. I leaned into him so I could kiss him, and he responded in kind. I pulled his hat up slightly so I could fit under it. This kiss was not as needy as others. I was enjoying the feel of his soft lips as they pulled on mine, his breath on my face, his hand on a safe spot on my waist. He pulled away slightly, but only to speak.

"Do you want to go home?" he asked. Now that I could see his eyes my self control became unhinged. I wanted him.

"Yes," I actually spoke, rather than just nod. He stood up effortlessly, and pulled me up in one swift motion. We walked quickly to the car, and he was inside it before I was.

"What are you doing?" he asked leaning over the seat.

"I'm trying to brush as much sand off as I can so I don't get it in your brand new truck," I said, trying to get the sand from between my toes.

"Forget the sand Sookie, get in," he said, not annoyed, but anxious. His tone made me take notice and get inside at once. "That's why God invented vacuum cleaners," he mumbled as he backed out of the parking spot.

"I'm sorry," I said. I didn't quite understand his mood now.

"I want you, and I want you now. Do you think I'm worried about sand in the truck?" he asked, his smile told me that all was well. He reached for my hand and held it tight, driving with one hand. He kissed it over and over, every time sending a jolt of electricity through my whole body.

As we were nearing our street the sky opened up in one of the usual thunderstorms. It made him groan at the fact that he had to slow down in order to see where he was going. But we got to his house and we ran inside. Apparently I wasn't moving fast enough for him, so he threw me over his shoulder, with very little complaint from me. He took me to his bedroom, set me on the bed, and immediately started taking off his wet clothes. I followed, barely noticing what his bedroom looked like. I was still sitting, naked now, on the edge of his bed when he was about to push me down but I stopped him. It was my turn. I stood up and laid him down on the bed, with a little help from him since he was so much bigger than me. I touched every inch of him, marveling, kissed everything I could touch, licked, sucked and pulled, just like he had done with me.

"You're driving me wild, my darling," he murmured when my face got near enough to hear him whisper.

"Now you know what you do to me," I said as I tugged one of his nipples. He wasn't having that. He sat up and laid me down, running his fingers to part my wet folds, testing my readiness. He took me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my hands reaching for every inch of him they could touch. We were hungry for each other. We were almost violent. He stopped suddenly.

"I want you to look at me. Don't close your eyes," he whispered. I hadn't realized that my eyes were closed. I obeyed, and found myself completely and utterly lost in his gaze. This was new. His beautiful face looked a little different from pleasure. Just looking at him and seeing him look at me the way he was, made me feel him, every inch of his body that was touching mine, inside and out. Some strange sound started ripping itself from my mouth, and I couldn't control it. Eric started growling that same familiar sound, matching my rhythm, and we didn't stop looking at each other for a long time. Pleasure built up inside me to the point that if I didn't close my eyes they would pop out of my head, and when I closed them I yelled his name, because I wanted to give my scream something important to say. He said my name too, but it was a soft moan as he curled into me, his forehead resting on my shoulder as he shook in ecstasy. He collapsed, but I took his weight. I couldn't unwrap my legs just yet, and I didn't want him away from my arms. He was breathing in gasps, his head turned towards me. I felt him kiss my jaw, and I turned my head. I wanted his lips on mine now. He kissed me tenderly, so softly that I felt like crying again. This time I couldn't hold it in. The tears sprang from my eyes and he noticed.

"Oh, darling! Am I hurting you?" he said, immediately extricating himself from my hold so he could lie down next to me.

"No. I don't know what's wrong with me now. I think… Oh, Eric… I've never felt anything like that before," I said, a little embarrassed. He chuckled and drew me to him.

"Sweetheart… my darling, my love. Maybe you haven't been loved like I love you," he said. My heart swelled at his words, because they rang true. And I had never felt for anybody what I felt for Eric… even before the amazing sex. I could say it now, to him and to myself.

"Are you hungry?" he asked me after a little while.

"No, I'm good. Are you?" I asked him. I hadn't thought of that. Since we'd had a late meal, I was okay.

"A little. I'll be right back," he said. He tucked me under the covers, put on his underwear only, and left. He came back a little later with a sandwich and a glass of water. I was already half asleep.

"Will it bother you if I turn on the TV?" he asked. Only then did I notice the small flat screen on his wall.

"Not at all. I may fall asleep, though," I said opening one eye to look up at him. He smiled with his mouth closed, since it was full of sandwich. He spoke again after he swallowed.

"Sleep, sweetheart. You had a bad night, you need to rest," he said caressing my hair. It felt so good to be in his bed, with him next to me. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

**TBC**

**A/N:** _Fumbling Towards Ecstasy_ is a song by the beautiful and talented Sarah McLachlan.


	6. Confessions

**A/N: **Welcome to the "Toad in the Hole" debate. Apparently there are two dishes named the same thing. One is a concoction of sausages and Yorkshire pudding (which is not at all like the pudding we Americans think of when we hear the word). It actually looks good, though I've never tried it. Then there's the one that Eric was making for Sookie in Chapter 4 (hollowed out toast with a fried egg inside it). I don't know if the English would use the term interchangeably… So it's like the "Possum/Opossum" debate. Let's say, for the sake of argument, that since Eric has lived in the States for some time, he knows both variations. I'm going to be sneaky that way.

Thank you all who have favorited and alerted my story. Don't forget to review. I actually do answer those 'cause I love y'all, and I'm not afraid to say it. :-)

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**Chapter 6 - Confessions**

I dreamt this time. I was so relieved that I wasn't having a nightmare that I was shocked. I knew I was dreaming immediately, but I didn't want to wake up. I was standing in front of an ancient cathedral, with Gothic frills above the door. I went in and the light that filtered through the stained glass windows made rainbows on the aisle where I was walking. As I looked down to marvel at the rainbow patterns, I noticed I was holding flowers. I continued walking forward, and my dad appeared at my side. When I looked up at him he was absolutely beaming. I looked forward again and there, in front of me, in his most wondrous glory, was Eric. His lovely face gifted me with a beautiful smile, but his eyes and cheeks were shining. Finally I realized what was going on, when the priest started talking in Latin. I woke up then, but only because I heard something just as beautiful as my dream.

I was a little disoriented at first. I could hear faint music from somewhere, but the room was dark. I realized I was still in Eric's bed, still tucked under the covers. A quick look at his bedside clock told me it was 3 in the morning, my usual time. Eric wasn't there, and suddenly I realized what had woken me: Eric was at his piano. The door to the bedroom was closed, probably in an effort to keep the bedroom silent. I enjoyed the music for about a minute before I had to get up. It sounded like a Mozart sonata. I put on my panties and his shirt, the first things I saw, and crept out of the bedroom.

The rest of the house was dark too, but I knew my way around since the house was exactly like mine, even at night. I peeked around the wall of the dining room and saw him at his piano. His eyes were closed and his hands caressed the keys. He seemed deep in concentration. The faint light from outside made his hair look darker than it really was, his skin paler. I had seen him serious before, but not very often, and his expression now was different. I wondered if I was interrupting a very private grief. Did everything we had done make him think of his wife, of his loss? I suddenly felt guilty for looking, but I couldn't look away. When I saw him take a ragged breath I knew I had to go to him. I couldn't let him suffer alone.

I moved silently while he still played, his eyes still closed. I didn't want to startle him, so I said his name softly. He stopped playing. His eyes did have tears on them. When he looked at me, he looked ashamed.

"Oh, Eric… What's wrong?" I said getting closer. He reached out his hand, asking for mine, and pulled me to sit next to him on the bench. His one arm locked itself around my waist, his free hand turning me so he could kiss me. I locked myself to him as well, but I was wondering what was up. I pulled away first this time, looking into his eyes, asking the question again with mine and waiting patiently.

"It's very complex," he said finally. He had been holding his breath, and let it out in a puff. "I'm afraid you'll think less of me," he continued. I didn't say anything at first. I was thinking of my own secret and the things I hadn't told him for fear he'd think less of me.

"I promise to try to understand, whatever it is," I said finally. He looked at me again examining my face, and then took another deep breath.

"I loved my wife. She was my college sweetheart. We got married the minute we graduated, and I started my career. I left her alone a lot…" he paused. Whatever was coming was painful. "She got lonely and… found someone else," he said. Whoa! I wasn't expecting that. The pain that came on suddenly was only a mirror of his. I understood: he felt guilty that he had left her. He was taking responsibility for her cheating. I didn't have that in me for my husband.

"We had been trying to work on our relationship when she passed away," he said. I wondered where the part was where I was supposed to be thinking less of him.

"I'm so sorry," I said. And I _was_ sorry. I was sorry that he had gone through the initial pain of betrayal, and for whatever pain he was feeling now.

"Don't feel sorry yet…" he said, shaking his head, "because whatever love I felt for her pales in comparison with what I'm only _starting_ to feel for you. And therein lies the problem: I'm starting to compare her to you, trying to hold her to a standard that she can never achieve, because she doesn't have the chance to do so now. I can't seem to stop myself. Every single time you look at me, you melt me. The way you seem to know what I'm thinking. How smart you are. I can keep going with a thousand other things…" he said drifting off. He was still looking at me, a sort of wonder replacing his guilty look. I tried to keep my mind from wandering, from thinking about the thousand different ways that Eric was better than my husband had ever been. I refocused, thinking of his pain and his alone.

"Have you considered that maybe you had to go through that in order to appreciate what we have even more? You said to me that you had, pretty much, resigned yourself that her fate was sealed and that she had finally moved on to her next thing. I think you were right about that. But now it's your turn," I tried to look at it objectively. "You certainly seem ready to move on. You're only human. You can only analyze new experiences as they relate to old ones. She is your only point of reference…" I said sighing. I reached up to stroke his hair. He turned his face towards my arm and kissed it. He reached for it, held my hand where it was, and kissed my arm, moving up towards the crease of my elbow.

"You always know what to say to make me feel better," Eric whispered against my arm.

I shook my head. "You mostly leave me speechless," I said. He didn't know the effort it took me to form coherent sentences around him.

"For someone who is mostly speechless you certainly are very insightful," he said, looking at me now. His usual blue eyes were black as night. He kissed me briefly on the lips, then let me go and turned back to his piano. "This is for you," he said, as his hands slipped expertly across the keys. I recognized the melody, I knew the song well. I knew it well because it was one of my favorites, one that I could sing along with since I was I little girl. I didn't know if he knew how much I loved the song, if he did it on purpose to make me sing. I thought about it for a fraction of a second: so what? He had been feeling miserable about himself, and I wasn't completely convinced that he was indeed feeling any better. If I sang for him, would that make him happier? I was hoping it would so I did. At first I closed my eyes, still a little embarrassed. When I had enough courage to open them and look at him, his wide smile was all the encouragement I needed. So I sang louder, gave it my all, for him. Eric had been the only one I'd ever been able to sing in front of at full volume.

The song ended abruptly as he hurried to put his arms around me. We hugged for a long time, his face buried in my neck. "Let's go to bed," he whispered in my ear, making me shiver.

Eric stood up and picked me up, cradling me against his chest. He looked down at me as I looked up at him. A million things ran through my head, things I needed to tell him sooner rather than later. But not tonight, I decided, as he set me down gently on the bed. We made love again, this time slowly, sweetly.

We fell asleep in each other's arms and didn't wake up until close to nine in the morning. Actually, he woke up before I did, and started fiddling with my hair to wake me up. I moaned in protest and buried my face in his chest.

"Come on, my love. We're taking the sailboat out. Your dad just called," he said, watching me sit up in bed suddenly, and sitting up next to me.

"Oh, crap! How did he know I was here?" I asked. He smoothed my hair, looking me over.

"He didn't. But he had promised to show me how to get to the beach, so we're having an outing. I just assumed you wanted to come," he said. I was still looking at him confused. "Although… you do look ravishing just sitting there," he said, running a hand across my chest and cupping my breasts one at a time. He pulled me to him and kissed me, pressing his bare skin against mine. He took a deep breath before letting me go.

"I suppose we should get ready," he said, reluctantly getting out of bed. My breath caught in my chest. He was naked too, and seeing him move, his muscles flexing, his beautiful skin in the morning light, pale but pink, his disheveled hair… I had to tell myself he was human, though I couldn't believe it. He was picking up our clothes from the floor while I stared. He put the clothes on the bed and took in my expression. He smiled.

"I know sweetheart, but we can't spend our days indoors. Besides, we'll have fun. It will be like a date," he said. I bit my lip smiling. He took my hand and helped me get out of bed. I got dressed. I needed to go home, clean up a little and put on my bathing suit.

"I'll be there in a few minutes," he said in my ear, after kissing me goodbye.

When I got to my house it looked strange to me, empty. The cats, who usually had a full dry food feeder, were winding around my legs. They must have eaten all their food during the night. I fed them and started the coffee brewing. I took the quickest shower in history and dressed for the beach. I was close to choosing a string bikini, but then I remembered that my parents would be there too. Maybe something less revealing, then. I chose a bikini, but it was a little more demure: a halter top with boy shorts. It didn't stop Eric from admiring me once he saw me in it. He had snuck in my house through the back door, and was sitting on my bed when I came out of my bathroom. He watched me as I put on my cover up and shoes, and was still following my progress around the room, as I put together a bag with a change of clothes, sunscreen, towels…

"Is one of those for me?" he asked curious, when he saw me rolling up the towels so they would fit in my bag.

"Of course. So is the sunscreen, we'll share," I said smiling, waving the bottle of sunscreen in the air. I moved close enough to him that he was able to catch me. He had me stand in front of him, his legs holding me securely against him. He lifted my cover up and ducked his head under it. He kissed my bare belly, sending electricity running up and down my spine. Then he reached inside my bottom to touch me, making me gasp.

"We'll be late," I mumbled, but my heart wasn't in it. I was not about to stop him. He kept touching me, holding me tight against him, which was a good thing since I felt I was about to fall. His fingers explored my little nub then reached deeper. I felt one finger inside me, then another, looking for a finding a secret spot I knew nothing about. The pleasure was so great that I held onto his shoulders and curled over him, trying to keep from shaking too much. But it didn't matter: I shook like a leaf, my whole body trembling at his touch until it became unbearable. I nearly collapsed of pleasure, crying out at the onslaught of feeling. He sat me on his lap, holding me lovingly, but chuckling under his breath.

"What's so funny?" I asked a little irked now.

"I'm just surprised and happy that I have that kind of effect on you," he said, a little smug, almost triumphant.

"This is starting to feel like that movie, _9 ½ Weeks_," I said.

"Just don't run away until I come at you with some whipped cream," he said laughing loudly now, shaking me. I had to laugh too. It felt right, this laughter, laughing along with him. I was so happy.

We finally made it to the sailboat, right on time. My parents were coming out of their house, cutting through the backyards. I could see my mom's expression from where we were standing. She looked about to die of pure happiness. My dad started a conversation with Eric about boats again. Eric seemed to know what he was talking about, though. I'd been a little worried that my dad's obsession would put Eric off, but I was wrong to worry. _Boys and their toys_, I sighed.

Eric took the helm and expertly maneuvered us out of the canal. I was sitting close to him, where he had placed me himself. My mom was sitting next to me, and my dad was across from us. Eric cut the engines and lifted the sails. He could have run the whole boat by himself, but got a little help from my dad. None of us – other than Eric – were used to the silence of a sailboat. It was usually impossible to hold any kind of meaningful conversation while my dad's boat's noisy engine was propelling us forward. I was really enjoying myself. Eric picked at my parents' brains some more about our origins, what they used to do for a living, our favorite vacation ever. It had been to Puerto Rico when I was a teenager. Therefore my love of the Spanish language and my desire to learn it well enough to be completely fluent.

We were able to anchor close to the beach, though not as close as my dad's boat could get. The island was big enough to protect us from the actual Gulf, but close enough so that the brackish water of the canals didn't invade it. The water was clear as glass, and with the shelter of the island, just as smooth. The sand here wasn't as fine as the sand out in the Gulf beaches. One could see each individual grain, like microscopic pebbles, each with a different color. The island was empty today; we were its only visitors. That was not unusual for a weekday. That was the good thing about having taken this time off: I could enjoy the attractions, even in the middle of summer, without the crowds. My mom always said it was because by May all the snowbirds had left Florida for more temperate climes. I didn't care about the reason. I liked going to the beach in the middle of a weekday morning. I liked not having to wait until night or a weekend to catch a brand new movie. And now that Eric was in my life, my days had filled up with an amazing array of possibilities.

We all started getting ready to go into the water. I stopped Eric before he could jump in the water and smeared sunscreen on him, first his back, then his chest, as he took care of his own arms. I was trying to be clinical about it so nobody could see how much I was enjoying touching him. Eric returned the favor, putting sunscreen on my back. He kissed the top of my head and dove in the water, like a little kid who didn't want to wait anymore. I edged to the platform that jutted out over the engine. I never liked to jump in, so I sat on the platform. Eric swam back to me, a huge smile on his face.

"Come on, Sookie. This is gorgeous," he said, holding on to my feet. I lowered myself next to him. I wasn't aware of anybody else but him anymore. "I'll race you," he said winking.

"Alright, but you already know I'm going to beat you," I said, teasing him.

"I'll take my chances," he said, feigning peevishness. I had to laugh. Apparently my dad had been listening from the stern.

"Alright, are you two racing or what?" my dad asked from above, making me remember that we weren't alone.

"On your mark!" announced my dad, so Eric and I held onto the either side of the ladder. "Get set!" I put my feet on the very top of the engine to get some leverage. "Go!" I dove down deep, where I knew I was fastest. I was good at this: it didn't even bother me that much to open my eyes in the salty water, though it was blurry. I could see Eric out of the corner of my eye, but I was ahead by about half my body. I finally floated up on my own as I did the butterfly, and caught my breath. I reached the end of the beach at the same time as Eric. He'd been stronger, but I'd been faster. We sat at the edge of the water, catching our breath for a minute. My parents were also making their way down to the water.

"You ARE good," said Eric to me. I looked at him smiling a little smugly, and he was smiling too. I looked at him in the bright light of the day, made brighter by the light-colored sand. He really was a beautiful man. His eyes had turned a different color today: they weren't sea glass anymore, but the sea itself, almost green. His hair was dark from being wet, except around his temples, where it was so light it was almost white. He was starting to grow a beard, and it matched the color of his hair. If I hadn't touched it before, I would have had a hard time seeing it. He lied back on the sand, taking a deep breath.

"This is amazing, Sookie. I can see what you mean about being awed by your surroundings. Are you awed, like I am?" he asked, opening only one eye to look at me.

"Yes, all the time. The color of the water and how warm it is; the warmth that comes from the breeze itself; I'm even in awe of the thunderstorms. I'm living in the closest place I could find to that place in Puerto Rico," I said. I sighed a little, and he caught it.

"So, why didn't you go live in Puerto Rico?" he asked.

"Those two people coming this way right now," I said nodding at my parents, who were in no particular hurry to reach us. "I needed my family, and they had been missing me. If _they_ had been in Puerto Rico, that's where I would have moved, but they were here. I only followed my heart," I said. My voice broke on the last word.

"You were hurt?" he asked. What a strange question, I thought. He knew I had lost my husband, so of course I'd been hurt. I looked at him frowning. He took my hand in both of his, sitting up now. He looked into my eyes, willing me not to look away.

"I've noticed you say things but you edit yourself, like there's something you're not telling me. I sometimes wonder if you've even told your parents. They know you lost your husband, but do they know why you feel so guilty, the real reason?" he asked, his tone was soft, full of feeling, not judgmental. My eyes practically bugged out of my head.

"Sookie… how can I help you if you won't speak? Now you know I love you, that I've told you my own private pain. You know how thankful I am that you not only understood, but offered a new perspective. Why can't you let me in too?" he asked. He was leaning in and whispering these words. My face turned into a mask of grief, and I was about to let go completely and cry, but I composed myself. It was easier to do than I thought. I took some very deep breaths, staring into his eyes. This helped. I looked away, at the water, and then looked back.

"I'll tell you everything, but let's go in the water," I said, as composed as I could. I owed him an explanation, and he had asked now, so I owed it now. But if we stayed on the beach my parents would hear. I had a trick that would keep them far enough away. It had worked during my better days with Bill. We walked down the beach a little ways away, and got in the water at a farther end. I led the way, still holding one of his hands. When I couldn't reach the bottom anymore, but he still could, I floated back to him and wrapped my legs around his waist, and my arms around his shoulders. Our faces were inches away. To anybody watching, we were two lovers whispering sweet nothings. But Eric's face was a little too tense, and I could only guess what mine looked like.

"Bill and I met through a mutual friend, and he was very nice. He never asked me to marry him, we sort of agreed that it was time and went to the courthouse. After two years our relationship had deteriorated. He was distant, and sometimes emotionally abusive. He would yell at me so loud I thought he would hit me," I whispered this so low, I didn't know if Eric had caught it. "I wanted to go to therapy, counseling, anything, and I did, but he refused to come along. At the same time, he would sometimes turn very loving, and that just kept the hope alive. Maybe I was wrong, you know? Maybe I was imagining things, and he was just stressed out. I mean he had one of the most stressful jobs in the world, a cop," I paused, took a deep breath. By now my forehead was leaning against his and my eyes were closed, remembering things that I wished I could forget. Eric held me tight, keeping me together. I didn't want to look at him just yet, not when I had to tell him the worst.

"We lived like this for a couple more years. About two months before Bill died, he had become especially distant. He barely said a word to me, only to complain. When I hinted that maybe it was time to go our separate ways he would completely lose it. One day I came home and our computer was on. He wasn't home yet, so I decided to check my email. He had left his own email up and there were dozens of very intimate emails, pictures, between him and some other woman," I began to shiver as I spoke. "I was livid. When I first saw everything I thought I would have a heart attack. I remember this so clearly. My heart was beating so fast looking at all this… I confronted him when he got home, in my own rage. He didn't say a word, he didn't even look mad. He walked over to me and punched me in the face," I didn't notice I was touching the left side of my face, where my temple met my cheek… not until Eric's soft touch on my hand reminded me.

"He punched me, grabbed his keys and left. I couldn't go to work, I couldn't do anything. I told my boss, my friends, that I was sick. I called a locksmith, though, and had the locks changed. But he didn't try to come home. I didn't hear from him again until someone called me from his department. They came to the house to get me, to escort me to the hospital. I couldn't hide my face then. The officer that got me was female, and I could see it in her eyes. She saw the bruise, but didn't say anything. There was nothing else for me to do. There was no point in pressing charges, Bill was technically dead. Because I was his wife, I was the only one allowed to give orders regarding his life. I tried to be as objective as possible, listening without emotion… listening to the doctors tell me that the only thing keeping his body alive were the machines. They were doing everything for him. So I made the decision I would hope someone would make for me if I was the one lying there…" I said. I felt like crying again, silent tears streaming down my face. But I wasn't sobbing. I was able to continue.

"Eric… you feel so guilty because you left your wife alone. I don't know what I did to make my husband cheat or hurt me. And my guilt stems from the fact that I got a revenge that I had not asked for… but it's worse than that. I can't grieve for that man. I wish that the relationship had been better so that I could grieve properly, so that I could mourn. But I can't mourn the loss of someone who was already gone in a different kind of way. Every time someone finds out I'm a widow, they feel pity for me, and that's why I feel so much remorse," I said shaking my head. I was finally able to look up at Eric; his hand had rested on my left cheek. When I looked into his eyes I didn't understand the expression. He was _mad_. I had never seen him like that. Even his nostrils were flaring. Oh, no… was he mad at me? I started to disengage myself from him. Years of dealing with rage had taught me to keep my distance. I was scared. Eric's eyes widened, taking in my expression, and became fearful as well.

"No, Sookie. Stay, my love, stay with me," he whispered. "I will never hurt you, ever, stay here…" he said, caressing my hair as he held my face against his shoulder. "I am so sorry you have suffered so much. How can somebody be so horrible to somebody so wonderful?" he asked, more of the heavens than of me. "I think that the advice you gave me applies to you too. Maybe you had to go through that so that you can appreciate what we have that much more," he said, a slow smile forming on his lips, but his eyes were still hard. I nodded before answering, pulling away so I could look into his sea green eyes.

"Yes, Eric, and you have to know how much I truly appreciate and cherish you. I love you," I said, this time a sob caught in my throat.

"If you love me, then why are you crying, silly girl? I love you too… so much," he said, holding me close again. I breathed him in. He smelled of sunscreen and salt, and of Eric. I was able to make out his scent, sweet and distinct from anything else. He didn't try to speed up my healing, and he didn't try to push me away. He just held me for a long time, until I started feeling better.

"I think we can go play at the beach again," I said, already feeling much better than I had in a long – LONG – time.

"Nope, we're staying right here. Let's dance," he said, spinning us around. I let go of his shoulders, but kept my legs firmly in place, and floated on the water while he kept on spinning. Looking at the sky like this made me dizzy and giddy. I started laughing, and the sound of it startled even me. It had been a long time since I'd had the giggles. I'd come very close with my brother's jokes, but I hadn't felt this kind of peacefulness since I was a little girl, playing a similar game at a similar beach.

Eric stopped spinning, pulled me up from the water, and started kissing me. I kissed him right back, with everything I had inside me. It took great effort to stop and remember that we weren't alone on the beach.

"Will I be in trouble now?" he asked, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

"Are you kidding?" I answered him with another question. "You're probably their favorite person in the whole world. You're certainly my dad's favorite person: you're rich, you own a boat, and you love his daughter… AND you brought her out of her funk. Well, actually, if you'd only owned the boat you'd still be his favorite person," I said laughing. Eric stared at me in wonder and bit his lip.

"What?" I asked, still smiling.

"Nothing bad… nothing bad at all! You're speaking. It's unprecedented and I love it, and I love you the more for it, because of it," he said.

"You thought maybe I had nothing interesting to say?" I asked teasingly.

"Oh, no! I knew you did, that's the point. The minute you told me why you were growling at your garden, I knew you were witty. When you recognized the name of my boat, I knew you were both witty and smart. I was hoping to bring it out of you eventually, or at least in abundance. You always have something fascinating to say," he added.

"Let's stop talking. Let's go play," I said grinning.

"Yes, ma'am!" he said straightening up.

We swam back to the beach and met up with my parents. They pointed out the fact that it would be lunch soon. Eric and I decided to race a couple more laps. He won the first, and then he let me win. We got back on the boat to eat the sandwiches and drink the sodas my mom had brought. I ate two sandwiches, and so did Eric. He joked that it was the first time he'd seen me eat as much as him. We made our way back home slowly. Eric let me try my hand at steering. It was a little different than steering my dad's boat, but I learned quickly. The whole time, whenever I glanced at my mom, I could see she had already moved on to my own grandchildren. I tried not to let my heart soar too high. Eric was perfect for me in every way, but was I perfect for him? He could love me now that he was lonely and had found another lonely soul. But once he wasn't feeling lonely anymore, would he leave? It was a real possibility, and one that remained lodged in the back of my mind.

When we made it home (and the boys tied up the boat), we all headed to our respective houses to shower. It was the mid-afternoon, and the sandwiches were long gone from my system. I was washed, dressed, and had started making dinner when Eric knocked on my front door. I ran to my door. I had missed him terribly for that long half hour. We kissed standing in my threshold before the smell of food cut into his concentration.

"Something smells delicious," he announced in a sing-song voice. I smiled and pulled him to the kitchen.

"I hope you like it. It's spaghetti, with home-made sauce. You smell the sauce," I said, pointing at one of the two big pots.

"Yummy, spaghetti," he said, and those two words, put together by him with is soft accent made me break into a new round of the giggles. He started laughing with me, putting his hand on my face. He stared at me for a long time, until I sighed.

"Sorry. I'm holding the cook hostage," he said stepping back a little.

"That's the problem. I like being held hostage. Too bad I could burn the house if I don't watch this," I said, turning to stir the pasta and the sauce.

"Too bad that I'm famished. It's being with you. That's why I've been eating so much. I'll have to make an effort to go jogging every day. I've skipped it for a couple of days," he said, leaning against my counter.

"That's my fault, I suppose," I said, biting my lip. I felt a little guilty.

"Your fault? Absolutely not! I could have made some time, it's not like you asked me to stay home. I just didn't want to be away from you," he said, this time he had moved closer to twine his arms around my waist. He kissed the back of my neck. "God! You smell so good!" he said pressing against me.

"Nah… it's the spaghetti," I said. He laughed at that, and then let me finish making dinner.

"I got a message from my manager today," said Eric while we were eating.

"Oh? Something wrong?" I asked, sensing some kind of hesitance in his tone.

"No. She just reminded me that I have to do a press junket in July. She likes to tell me right when she gets a concrete date. It's actually going to be the week after your birthday, so I'll be with you for it, but then I'll have to go," he said while his face lost a little of the pink flush he had developed at the beach. I frowned.

"How long will you be gone?" I asked, not quite understanding what a junket involved.

"About four or five days. They put it together in New York City. I want you to know that I'd take you with me, but you'll be utterly bored because it's almost 18 hours per day of interviews, screenings, photo shoots. It's quite gruesome for us. They don't do it for all movies… but this is for that ensemble movie I told you about," he said, still a bit upset.

"Honey, five days is nothing, it's nothing. We'll both survive and then I get to take care of you when you come back," I said, putting my hand on his. He looked up and half smiled.

"I guess I'm more upset about it than you are," he said afterwards. It was him frowning this time. I didn't understand that statement. Was he being jealous again?

"Eric… look at me," I said, because he had looked away out my kitchen windows. He complied before I continued. "I would like nothing more than to have you with me all the time, but you have obligations. I know very little of your business, but I'm pretty sure you signed a contract that said you had to attend these things to promote the movie. I won't fault you for it by becoming all sulky. That's not fair to you. What would you feel like if I asked you to stay or to take me with you? You'd feel like I was being a whiny baby, and I refuse to do that to you," I said serious. He must have been holding onto his breath because he finally let it out with a giant puff.

"You're right. I know you're right. I'll try to give you an awesome birthday to make up for the time I'll be gone," he said, his smile was faint, but it was there.

"That's better. And I'll kiss you passionately to thank you for it," I said.

"As a matter of fact," he continued, looking at me while a thought formed in his head. I could almost see the wheels turning furiously in his head while he thought. "I think I need to go home and make some phone calls after dinner. I promise to come back as fast as I can," he said, eating faster now and finishing all of his food in two giant bites.

"Leave it," I said when I saw him rinsing his dish at the sink.

"I'll be back in less than half an hour," he said kissing the top of my head, and disappearing through my back door. That was weird, but I knew he was up to no good. And since we had been talking about my birthday, it must involve me in some way.

My phone rang the minute I was done with the dishes. I ran to get it, half expecting it to be Eric. It was Chris.

"You got lost," she moaned.

"Chris, you were right. I've been spending a lot of time with Eric these past few days," I told her.

"I knew it. Anyway, don't make plans tomorrow night. You're coming with us to practice. Your bro wants you there. There's something new they want to try out, and you have to be there to give them your opinion," she said. If Jason had asked I would have said no, but it was very difficult to say no to Chris. She could be persuasive. She made it sound like my opinion was vital and I would ruin everything if I didn't show up. "You can bring your guy if you want…" she added grudgingly when I didn't answer right away.

"Chris, just come get me. I'll go. But I don't think my… boyfriend will come," I said. The word boyfriend hadn't rolled off my tongue very easy, but I still liked to claim him as mine.

"Oh, yeah… we'll see about that," she said. She was up to something again. "Okay! I'll pick you up at seven. If your guy decides to come, it's okay, you know? I'm sure his opinion would be valuable too," she said. We hung up.

I started boiling water for tea. I felt like having something sweet to drink, but coffee would keep me up, and hot chocolate would be too heavy after the spaghetti-carbo-load. Eric walked through my back door as I was getting my cup ready.

"Tea?" I asked him, and got him a cup without waiting for an answer.

"Yes, please. Very British," he said, again winding his arms around my waist. I hadn't quite looked at him since he walked in, not until I turned around to finish getting our cups ready.

"How do you like it?" I asked, looking at him. I didn't catch the answer. I was lost in his gaze. He was ecstatically happy about something, and it radiated from every pore of his being. It was contagious, and I couldn't help but smile back. I wasn't even curious. I was just happy that he was happy.

He moved around me to finish his own cup of tea. I guessed he'd said he would do it. I watched him moving around the kitchen. He handed me my cup and steered me to my living room. We both sat down on my sofa. He sipped his tea before speaking.

"I just got you your birthday present," he announced.

"Oh?" I said. I liked surprises. It seemed like he was dying to tell me what it was, so I feigned a lack of interest.

"Do you want to know what I got you?" he asked. I would have to break his heart. Taking a deep breath and looking at him in the eyes, I answered.

"I would love to find out what it is, but not until my birthday," I said, watching his face. His smile turned into a frown.

"Sookie…" he pleaded, sounding like he did when he had first explained the gifting situation between us.

"Eric, I'm not saying I don't want it, though by your expression I can tell you went overboard. But I like surprises and I'd rather wait until my birthday," I said, using his same logic. He took a deep breath letting it out in one of his half smiles that told me he wasn't altogether pleased, but wanted to be.

"Alright, I won't tell you. Actually you'll have to know a couple of days before whether you like it or not. But I'll wait as long as I can," he said, sighing. We sipped our tea in silence. The TV wasn't even on. Suddenly I was feeling a little shy around him. I wondered what was going through his head. Had I really hurt him that much? I hadn't meant to, I was just being honest. I got more and more ashamed as the silence lengthened, to the point that I could barely move, not even to take a sip of my tea. I just stared ahead, waiting for whatever was coming.

"Sookie…" he whispered, I almost cringed. "What are you thinking about sweetheart?" he asked. I felt his fingers running up my arm.

"I was wondering how mad you were at me," I answered, still not looking at him. I felt his hand reach for my face, as he gently turned me to him. He didn't look mad at all. He leaned into me and kissed my nose, my cheek, brushing his lips against my hair. Then he pulled away to look at me.

"Why would you think I was mad at you? Because you wouldn't let me spoil your own surprise?" he asked incredulous. He shook his head slowly.

"I thought that maybe I had hurt your feelings," I mumbled, looking down.

"My feelings? Sookie… You're amazing, but sometimes I wonder about you," he said, this time he was smiling. I looked up and his eyes held mine. He leaned in and stroked my nose with his, like an Eskimo kiss. Then he leaned his forehead against mine. He smelled so good, of his cologne and of himself. I closed my eyes and inhaled. My mind started working trying to remember something I had to tell him, my conversation with Chris.

"I forgot to tell you something," I whispered. He just nodded waiting for me to continue. "Chris, my brother's girlfriend called. They want me to go to my brother's band practice on Friday night. You're welcome to come too, but I have to warn you," I said while he pulled away curious.

"How bad can it be?" he asked.

"Um… think screaming. More like, think hurt walrus. That's close enough. I like the music, if only my brother would not sing… or whatever it is he does," I said. "I went to a concert last Friday, and it was pretty good," I said, trying to convince him to come after all, though I didn't think he would.

"Yes, I saw you coming home that night. I was unloading groceries when you ran in the house," he said, smiling.

"Yes. That was me," I admitted with a shy smile.

"You looked… sexy! I didn't know what to make of you. I was glad you didn't look like that during the day," he said, a huge smile on his lips.

"Are you saying I don't look sexy now?" I said, feigning to be a little peeved. I wasn't wearing anything too extraordinary: another pair of lounge pants and a shirt with no sleeves, my hair was in a loose ponytail and I was wearing fuzzy slippers to keep my feet warm while walking around the cold tile floor. He took me in, running his eyes from the top of my head to my fuzzy slippers. He let out a huge laugh.

"You're always beautiful, but you were wearing some revealing clothes that night," he said, kissing my hand.

"It was Chris's outfit. She's smaller than I am, so I was half pouring out of it. I gained a few admirers that night, or at least my boobs did," I said. He was laughing again.

"Will you dress like that again on Friday?" he asked when he could control his laughter.

"No, not for a practice session. I'll go in regular street-wear. So, how about it? Are you interested?" I asked.

"Are you sure I'm invited?" he asked me.

"Yes, I'm sure. Chris said so. She said they would value both our opinions. Hers too, I'm sure. We'll be in the audience," I answered. And then I thought of something. "I'm just worried about you. I don't want people to bother you," I said, suddenly anxious.

"Don't be. I can handle it pretty well. I've been doing this for quite a few years. Besides, they're a band: they know how to deal with celebrities. They won't be rude, I know it. Artists respect each other," said Eric, this time he had become distracted by my cleavage. He ran a finger along the neckline of my shirt, which was actually pretty far down my chest, and followed the soft hills made by my breasts.

**TBC ***Evil laugh*


	7. Chopin Sonatas

**A/N**: I don't usually write fluff, so even though this chapter seems like it is, it really isn't. There are important things in it. Nevertheless, Chapters 7 & 8 started as one REALLY massive chapter, so I divided them into two… So, if y'all think about it, it's my famous lemon meringue pie! Yay!

Thanks to all who have reviewed, favorited and alerted this story. I love y'all! MWAH!

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**Chapter 7 – Chopin Sonatas**

On Friday night, we had dinner at my parents, since Jason, Chris, Eric and I were all leaving afterwards to attend the band practice. Jason was beside himself with happiness that we had both decided to come. Apparently whatever they were planning needed an audience. It was nice to make him happy… but I brought ear plugs.

We piled into Eric's truck, the only car comfortable enough to fit all four of us, but mostly the two big men. We prepared Eric by playing one of Jason's band's CD's while on our way. Even though it was more like background music, it was still strident. But Eric didn't seem to mind, on the contrary. He seemed to be enjoying himself. That made me wonder how good of an actor he really was. We finally arrived at a very large building, which seemed to have been a car shop at some point, judging by the holes in the ground and the smell of old diesel and oil.

"It belongs to a friend of a friend," was Jason's answer when Chris wondered aloud about the building. I'm glad she asked the question because I'd been wondering about that too. We walked in, Eric holding me close with his arm wrapped around my waist, but otherwise totally at ease. All the other band members were setting up. Apparently they had arrived just a few minutes earlier. Everyone stopped what they were doing when they heard us come in. They all seemed curious. I guessed Jason had told all of them that I was bringing my boyfriend. I glanced around at everybody, and saw Quinn standing behind his keyboard. He looked like a lost puppy. I felt bad, since I knew he would have loved to have taken Eric's place. But at least he wasn't hostile. That expression left his face as Jason made the introductions. Quinn smiled politely and continued with his work.

Once they finished setting up and tuning their instruments a little, we were treated to a couple of their songs. Jason walked over to me and pulled me from the chair I'd been sitting in, and pulled me towards the spot where he had been standing.

"I want you to sing. I know you can do this," Jason whispered looking into my eyes. It was almost like looking into a mirror that made me look very big. Except that I was scared out of my wits and shaking my head, and he was very calm.

"Sis, you can do this. Everyone here is a friend and loves you. You will not be judged, you will not be made fun of," Jason continued in a soothing tone. I breathed deeply to calm myself.

"I don't know the songs," I mumbled. Jason shook his head immediately.

"Yes, you do. Listen," said Jason, and the band started playing a song, a very familiar song. It was one from my favorite European rock band. I decided to go for it. I looked at Eric and he was beaming, arms on his knees leaning forward.

I sang with all I had. After the first chorus my voice had warmed up enough that I could hit the higher notes too. I kept looking at my audience of two (Jason had remained close to me). Chris looked to be just as excited as Eric. My intuition tickled my brain. Something was going on, and everyone was in on it except me. But as I finished my song, I was so relieved that my voice had done what I knew it could do, and that my courage held. Eric walked over and hugged me tight. Chris was jumping, literally, up and down and screaming in triumph.

"Did you do this?" I asked Eric, looking up.

"It was a group effort," my brother answered from behind me. "Now that you know you can, we would like to invite you to sing with our band. You'll be my back-up singer, sort of," Jason said. I'd turned to look at him, confused.

"Your what?" I asked.

"My back-up singer. You've heard it before, it's a new thing, and it's going to sound great. My awesome powerful screaming, and your beautiful strong voice," Jason answered. He crossed his arms over his chest, daring me to decline.

"I guess I can do it," I said, thoughtful. Ok, so, if I pretended nobody was in front of me… Obviously the five members of the band wanted this too, and they thought I did well. It would give me something to do until I figured out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Besides, this would be yet another layer that needed to be shed. And, it would be fun! I didn't notice I was smiling until I spoke again.

"I guess Chris and I have some clothes shopping to do," I said looking at Chris. Chris did another victory dance.

Eric let go of me and sat back down with Chris. The band was going to teach me a song. This was easy. As long as I could see the words on the music, I could pick out the right notes to sing, even when my brother started to scream halfway through. I guessed the part about writing down the words and the notes had been necessary for me alone. I couldn't detect any hint of actual music issuing from my brother's mouth. We finished the practice session with me knowing the full song by heart. It was easy. I was notorious for memorizing songs with nice harmonies, and this one was good in that department.

On our way home Eric kept stealing looks at me. I knew what was on his mind, but he was going to get grilled with questions the minute we got home. _Home_, I marveled at the word that my mind had formed. It didn't matter if I stayed at his house or he stayed at my house. Either way, if we were together, it felt like home. A week after meeting, and he had become everything I wanted and everything I needed to make my life complete. There was no drama; everything flowed smoothly as it should. So far, during the few disagreements we'd had, we'd been able to compromise very well. Such as when he insisted on washing dishes by hand when he (and I, both) had perfectly good dishwashers. So we settled that in my house the dishes were to be washed in the dishwasher, and at his house they would be washed by hand. Or when he had insisted in paying for my groceries earlier that day: I was adamant, since they contained personal hygiene items as well, but he snuck in his card before I could swipe mine. We had a little "talk" about that later. His reasoning was that he had used some of those items as well (certainly my shampoo, toilet paper, and soap), so it was perfectly reasonable for him to pay to replenish them. I didn't agree, but let it slide in the end. It wasn't worth it to keep arguing. It wasted energy on the wrong subjects.

We dropped off Chris at her house, and proceeded to ours. Jason walked to my parents, cutting through the lawns, and I stayed at Eric's. When we walked in the door, Eric made a bee line for his piano. I followed slowly, wondering what he was up to. He started tinkling on the high keys softly. The light melody wasn't familiar but still very beautiful.

"Do you know anything about Chopin?" asked Eric, looking at me while still playing.

"A little. I know he lived in Majorca but didn't like it," I said. I remembered this tidbit of completely useless information because, when I had found out about it, I thought the guy had been nuts! If I had lived in Majorca, I would have been in paradise. To each his or her own…

"Yes, that's right. He lived in Majorca for a few months of his life and composed a few songs while living there. In my opinion, he wrote beautiful music because he was trying to escape what he felt was a horrible life. He was a very sickly fellow," he said, now looking down and playing a song infinitely more complex than anything else I'd ever heard him play.

"Are you playing Chopin?" I asked quietly moving to his side. He nodded, concentrating. The music was so moving, I closed my eyes where I stood and listened intently. His hands must have been moving impossibly fast. I was leaning on the piano, so I could feel its vibration. In Eric's capable hands, the instrument became magical, a flying carpet. He ended the song with a flourish. I had a hard time opening my eyes.

"Chopin gifted the world with numerous musical pieces and died when he was only 39 years old," Eric said. He sounded like he was trying to catch his breath. "Sookie, you are gifted in your own way. Not everyone can be a famous composer, but we can all live our life to the fullest and see what comes of it. You can't keep hiding like you've been doing lately," he said. I bit my lip and looked down.

"I don't want you to do this alone. You're not alone. Why don't you take advantage of us? Your family and me? We can help you find your direction, but we can only help if you take the first step. And believe me: we all want to help," Eric continued, this time he reached for my hand to pull me close to him. He wrapped his arms around my hips, resting his cheek on my belly. I breathed slowly, trying to steady my heart. Lately I'd been feeling like an onion, like the layers kept falling off of me. But I wasn't an onion so much as a scared little girl who had wrapped herself with several blankets, adding one after each pain, after each disappointment. I had begun the slow process of taking off those layers by myself, but I needed help.

"Eric… I need help," I finally admitted out loud. "I don't know what to do. Sometimes I feel like I'm in a tornado. My thoughts don't feel very much like they're mine at all. Everything I think about has brakes: if I try to find a job, will somebody want to hire me? If I try to go back to school, what should I study, what won't I fail? I don't know where to begin," I said shaking my head. Eric sat me next to him.

"Well… I can see that you're tired, so we'll go to bed tonight. But tomorrow, we'll start exploring all your options. I'll help you. Now that I know what's holding you up, I know how to help you. See? Sweetheart, that's all we needed all along: some information. It will become easier, you'll see," Eric said, rubbing my back. We went to bed. He undressed me tenderly, and the way he touched me this time wasn't sexual. He made me lay down on my stomach. He continued to caress my back, work out some knots, rub some more, caress some more. I fell asleep to the gentle rhythm of his touch, and woke up unusually alert in the morning. He had fallen asleep with his hand still on my back. Neither of us had moved during the night.

The soft morning light told me it was still early, and I guessed seven, even though I hadn't looked at the clock yet. I turned to look at Eric, to watch him sleep. How could I get used to him, so beautiful, lying there, and mine? He had let his beard grow and had started to look scruffy, but I liked that too. Soon he would be completely unrecognizable as Eric Northman. He would just be my boyfriend, my life, the famous actor forgotten for the time being. His hair hadn't become the usual mess it was in the mornings. A ray of light played along his temple, where his hair was a shade lighter. I hadn't moved a muscle, other than my head to look at him, when he opened his eyes. He greeted me with one of his usual smiles, the ones that were just for me. The hand that had been on my back slowly moved to my hair. He played with a strand.

"Hi! It's so wonderful to wake up with you," he said.

"You stole the words out of my mouth. I was watching you sleep. You look very peaceful. It makes me very happy to see you that way," I said, touching his hair like he was touching mine. His eyes closed as I ran my hand through his hair, that same peaceful smile still on his lips. I was hoping with all my might that he really did love me as much as I loved him, and that everything he showed me of his feelings was not just really elaborate acting.

His eyes opened then, and I knew it couldn't be just an act. I had never been gifted with such a look. And it was truly a gift, something I wasn't expecting but I loved just the same. I could get lost in his gaze. No wonder I was speechless, even now. Eric took me in his arms, pulling me closer so he could kiss me. This had become routine by now: my morning kiss. But even when it was routine, it was delicious. Neither of us cared about the other's morning breath, there was nothing that could keep us apart now… Except…

"Time to start our day," I said, pulling away and sighing. He frowned and shook his head. We kissed some more but he pulled away this time.

"You're right," he frowned again. Then he smiled a wicked smile. "What's for breakfast?" he asked. He would go run while I made breakfast. Then we would eat and I would go walk with my mom. It had been our compromise after Eric had skipped several days of running just to be with me. I thought this had been unacceptable, not because he was fat and needed the exercise, but because he shouldn't have changed his healthy habits for me.

"I'm thinking French toast from scratch," I said smiling. A little flicker of recognition lit his face.

"That's my favorite. Did you know that?" he asked.

"I know now. I'll keep it in mind," I said, and we started our day.

When Eric returned, breakfast was almost ready. He was shiny from sweat, and his usual sweet scent was stronger than ever. He gulped a glass of water and sat down at his kitchen table. I brought him a plate of food. He put his arm around my waist and looked up at me.

"You take care of me," he said. I frowned.

"Why wouldn't I? You take care of me," I said to him, kissing his wet forehead and having to wipe my lips. He laughed and dug in.

"I was thinking we should start by looking at what your brother's school offers," said Eric while we were eating.

"It's very comprehensive for a community college. I believe everything has to be able to transfer to Florida State University, so they have to have the same level of quality and so on," I answered, since I already knew quite a bit about it.

"Great! What degree do you have now?"

"I have a Bachelor's in Business Management," I answered shrugging.

"That's not very creative," he answered, his face serious.

"I know. I wanted to be an English major, and I tried it for a couple of semesters, but I wasn't creative enough to do what they wanted," I said frowning now.

"That was your problem? Most people have issues with other things, like all the writing," he said.

"Nope. I have no problems writing. My grammar is near perfect and so is my spelling. My problem is trying to figure out what to write. With my Business classes it was easy: you're given a specific subject, you do research, you put together some coherent sentences and you get an instant 'A.' Piece of cake. I kept getting stuck with my English classes. It wasn't as much fun as I thought," I said. I had been truly disappointed by that particular failure.

"Sweetheart," he said, putting his hand on mine. This made me look up at him. He had a huge wicked smile waiting for me. "I was an English major, and my mom was an English professor. If you want to go back to school and study English, you will not have better tutors," he said. I smiled and bit my lip.

"I'll need a lot of help," I cautioned.

"My mom is dying to talk to you. I'm sure she would love to help you as much as you need. And, of course, you have me," he said. But it was his first sentence that brought me up short, and he saw it. "What?" he asked.

"Your mom wants to talk to me?"

"Talk to you, no? Grill you would be more accurate. I've kept her away from you so I wouldn't scare you. She's a little upset that I've met your family, but you haven't met mine. The issue of distance is the only thing keeping her from flat out disowning me," he said. Now I was scared.

"She doesn't like me," I said it like a statement, not a question.

"Yes, she does. Very much so. I've told her everything about you and she's mad at me that I've been keeping you from her."

"Oh," I said understanding. That was kind of sweet. Then something occurred to me.

"What about your sister?" I asked.

"Pam would love to meet you as well, but she's a very busy woman with her business. Which is why our relationship is so important to my mom: she was so devastated by everything that happened before. Now she's elated beyond reason. The only thing keeping her home is my telling her that it was too soon. She pointed out the fact that it's too soon for me to know your parents too, but then I told her we were all neighbors, and she couldn't argue…" he stopped talking because he'd seen my face. I disapproved, and made it plain.

"Darling, I'll let her come meet you, I promise. But right now… I thought it would scare you," he sighed. Something painful was coming, and he seemed to be gathering courage. "Sometimes I think our whole relationship will scare you and you'll run away from me. I didn't want to add yet something else," he said, but he didn't look at me. He was hunkering down as if for impact. I sighed.

"Eric! How could you think that?" I whispered. I was so hurt.

"Sometimes… I don't know… I'm so afraid to lose you, now that I've found you. And sometimes, it seems like you're still struggling with us," he said, pointing between the two of us. I shook my head in disbelief.

"I'm always afraid you're the one who's going to leave me," I couldn't make my voice louder than another whisper. He frowned.

"I guess I haven't told you enough that I love you. I guess I haven't shown you enough that I need you. I need you here, with me, at my table. I love you, and I love your hair, and I love your face," he put his hands on my face to turn my face to him and stare into my eyes. His were furious with feeling. "I. Love. You. Understand? You are it. I don't want to be without you. I'm not leaving," he said. By now he was breathing hard, like his adrenaline had spiked and he was ready to fight. Fight for me, not with me.

I hugged him. He'd said everything I'd wanted to hear and more. How was I supposed to find the words to tell him that I felt the same way about him?

"You're my world," I said simply. I kissed him. He was my world. How was I supposed to live without him now? I had gotten insanely lucky: first the rumors had turned out to be true, and the famous actor had indeed moved to the house next to mine. Then he had turned out to be an amazingly caring neighbor. And then, wonder of all wonders, as I was starting to develop a crush that I thought would never be returned, I had found out that he was in love with me. And he had made me fall in love with him: with his humor, his smiles, and his art. It was almost too much to take when he'd turned out to be an unbelievably handsome and awesome lover. We fit together as if we'd been made for each other. We'd saved each other. And, though I didn't understand exactly how much he needed me, I certainly understood how much I needed him. He'd taught me what it felt like to love someone the right way, unconditionally. He'd shown me that he loved me that way. My family loved me that way, but they were my family. I believed they did it out of duty. Eric did it simply because… Because I was me.

**TBC… Lemons are coming in the next chapter. I swear…**


	8. Caribbean Blue

**A/N: **Fast update… this was already written and only needed editing. This is technically the second part of Chapter 7. It felt better to divide them.

* * *

**Chapter 8 – Caribbean Blue**

I came home to find Eric at my garden. It had been more than a month since he'd helped me with my stubborn garden, and he seemed to be adding to it, or else fixing it.

"This spot is in sore need of fertilizer," said Eric looking up as I approached him, and answering my puzzled look.

"Oh! Thanks," I said. "I'll go change and help out," I said, turning to go to my front door.

"No, sweetheart. I'm done," he called out, and came to join me. "How did it go?" he asked me, heading for my sink to wash his hands.

"I enrolled in four classes this fall. I'm officially a college girl," I said smiling.

"That's my girl. What are you taking?" he asked, drying his hands and giving me his undivided attention.

"Well… I only need the true English classes to get a Bachelor's in English, because they accepted all the basic classes. Which means I don't have to take Calculus ever again," I said beaming. "I'm taking Poetry, an advanced grammar class, a World Literature, and American Literature… a lot of writing," I wrinkled my nose. I wasn't scared of the actual writing, just of having to come up with something to write about.

"You will do great, my love," he said coming to me and winding his hands around my waist. He kissed me fervently, one of those kisses that I would never be able to get used to, the kind that took my breath away.

"Darling… it is time for you to find out about your birthday present," he said, pulling me to my bedroom. My heart skipped a beat, the same way it did whenever we were about to make love. I was about to say something to that fact when I saw my luggage lying open on my bed.

"Huh? What's this?" I asked.

"We're going away for your birthday. Don't worry… your parents have been in on it from the beginning. They know we're leaving tonight," said Eric, pulling me to my closet.

"Will I need a parka? 'Cause I got rid of mine," I said teasing.

"No, but you will need this," he said, pulling a string bikini from the small dresser I kept in my closet. He must have been looking. I felt a little embarrassed, actually, thinking of him going through my drawers. "And this," he said, pulling something red and lacy that I'd never seen before.

"What is that?" I asked, grabbing it from his hands. I held it up: a teddy. Well… that would be a gift for him, not me. I raised one eyebrow and he seemed to read my mind.

"You will want to thank me, and I would like to pick the way in which you will show your appreciation," he said winking. My heart sputtered again and I had a little trouble catching my breath. "As a matter of fact, I'd like to make sure it fits you," he said, taking it from my hands and holding the thin straps to my shoulders.

"What time are we leaving?" I asked, pulling him back to reality.

"Our airplane leaves at four, so we better get you packed so we can get to the airport on time," he said grudgingly.

"Airport? Where are we going?" I asked. When he'd said we were going away, I had actually thought of Disney World or one of the Keys. I didn't realize there would be an airport involved.

"Um… not too far. You'll find out at the airport, but for now it's still a surprise," he said handing me the two items still in his hand.

I couldn't imagine him taking me skiing "not too far" away, so I threw some summer outfits in my suitcase, since it was summer in all of the northern hemisphere. He left me to my own devices while he took a shower and packed. When he returned I was mostly ready to leave.

"I have to go say goodbye to my parents. Do I have time for that? Besides, I have to give them instructions about the kitties," I said.

"We still have about 20 minutes. You go, I'll put the suitcases in the truck," he said, his smile much more prominent now that we were about to leave. He didn't look like the Eric Northman of the movies anymore. His beard had grown all over his face. But it hadn't made the radical difference I had imagined. He still looked too perfect for words. Anybody could tell he was someone exceptional, even if at first they wouldn't be able to tell who he was exactly.

I kissed and hugged my family goodbye. Even Chris was in on the secret. I was guessing Jason had told her recently, because she wasn't one to keep exciting secrets from her friends.

Eric held my hand the whole way to the airport, and was unusually chatty. I was guessing it was nerves, but why was _he_ nervous? I was supposed to be the one biting my nails. The truth was that I loved surprises, and I loved the anticipation. The longer I could draw it out the better. So I didn't ask any questions (though I knew he was dying for me to ask), and I paid very little attention to his hints (not letting my mind wander). But he was enjoying this immensely.

At the ticket counter the lady didn't bat an eyelash when Eric showed his ID. She must have had experience at this famous-people deal, or she was very professional… or she didn't really care. I noticed we were at the Business Class ticket line (the empty one). I suspected Eric had been bestowed with several thousand travel miles which he had redeemed to upgrade us to something more comfortable. We made it through security sans luggage, and sat down at a restaurant near our gate to wait patiently while sipping some spirits. So far he hadn't showed me the tickets, and I had not glanced at the flights screens long enough to figure out what was departing from our gate. I was really enjoying this. He could sense the change in my mood.

"You're not mad that I got you some travel as a present?" he asked, almost in awe.

"No. I can see that this is making you happy, and I truly like surprises. I like that I don't know what's going on. It's exciting. I'm sure that when I finally clue in I'll enjoy my gift, but for now I'm in it for the ride. So no more hints!" I said, but I couldn't manage any kind of scowl or even a frown. I did raise one eyebrow and pointed a finger at him. That made him laugh. I was feeling more than blissful when Eric said they had called our flight and we needed to go. The one glass of white wine had a little to do with it. We walked hand in hand the short distance to the gate, and there, in big red letters, flight 1262 to Aguadilla.

"We're going to Puerto Rico," I whispered to him, since we were making the line to board, and now I was feeling self-conscious. I didn't want people to know that I had _just_ clued in about where we were going.

"Yes," he whispered back to me, and kissed my forehead. I was in a daze. He had managed to figure out the one gift I couldn't return, would never say no to, and would enjoy immensely.

"You were right about that… _thing_ you got for me. I will have to show you my appreciation properly," I said looking up at him with a smile. He returned it, looking almost smug.

The flight was only a little over a couple of hours. We rented a car when we arrived, and the GPS wound us through some mountainous road in order to reach our destination. The drive didn't take long either, but it was hard finding where we were going, since it was past seven in the evening. In the States it would still be light outside. In Puerto Rico the light didn't last past seven in the evening, no matter what time of the year it was. Eric made a turn into what looked like a driveway off the two-lane road, and came to a stop at a set of gates. He rummaged inside his carry-on and produced what looked like a garage-door opener. He pressed it and the gates swung open. As we drove through I was finally able to make out a house nestled in the forest. He parked the rental car inside the carport, which was illuminated, just like the house.

"We're here," he announced.

"That's great. Where are we?" I asked.

"This will be our house for the week. And the rest of your birthday present," he answered. I could barely believe it. He had rented a house for a week, instead of going to a hotel. Interesting, but I wondered why. The minute I stepped out of the car, I heard why. In the near distance I could hear the unmistakable sound of waves lapping at a beach.

"Wow…" I said, frozen where I stood.

"Come on, beautiful girl. Let me show you around," said Eric, pulling me by the hand. He reached in his bag again and produced a set of keys. He opened the side door of the house, the one that led to the carport. It was the kitchen. The house itself wasn't that much bigger than either of ours in Florida, but it was much nicer inside. The countertops in the kitchen were pink granite. The light fixtures seemed made of pewter. Eric led the way, turning lights on as he found them. In the living room were a small wall piano, and two giant cream-colored leather couches facing a humongous flat screen TV. The dining room had a beautiful mahogany table and chairs, many more than we would need. We walked down the hall, and I counted three bedrooms and a bathroom, but at the end of the hall was a fourth bedroom, the master. We walked in to find a beautiful four-poster king size bed made of the same dark mahogany as the dining room table. The linens were white, the pillows were fluffy and numerous. I checked out the bathroom and, besides being huge, it had a Jacuzzi tub, and a separate shower. Everything was tastefully appointed with some more granite countertops, white fluffy towels, every kind of toiletry imaginable, and even sunscreen nestled inside a beautifully folded striped towel (a beach towel, I guessed).

We walked back to the master bedroom and Eric pulled on a set of curtains that opened to reveal a sliding glass door. Beyond the door was a small patio surrounded by vegetation, but I couldn't see anything else. He started rummaging around some drawers and found what he was looking for: a flashlight. He beckoned to me with one finger and we stepped out into the patio. He shone the light at all the plants, until he found a set of stairs that led down the hill. We took the stairs carefully and, at the bottom, we found the beach I had heard. Eric turned off the flashlight and we walked in the dark towards the water. My eyes adjusted enough that I could tell there was something big and stationary inside the water. It almost looked like a hill jutting out of the water. It was at least a hundred yards away, but its presence explained why I could hear the roar of the sea in the distance, but not in front of me. The jetty had made this beach a safe harbor. I looked up and the stars were bright as day. It must have been a new moon because I couldn't see it as I turned this way and that. But rather than fret too much at the lack of moon, I focused on the constellations that I knew. Ursa Major, Ursa Minor and Orion, I remembered, were easy to see down here. And so I was engrossed trying to find the two bears and the archer in the sky, when I felt Eric's soft touch on my cheek.

"Are you happy?" he asked.

"Extremely," I answered without missing a beat. Everything was so new and so familiar at the same time. The cacophony of insects included a few renditions by the pretty coqui frog. The night breeze was soft and warm. It even smelled familiar, of something sweet in the air mixed with the sea.

Eric sat down where he stood, and I sat down next to him, leaning my head on his shoulder. He turned my face gently so he could kiss me. His lips were soft on mine, which in these surroundings set my whole body on fire. I threw my arms around him, my senses trilling with my desire for him. He laid me down on the sand, and started undoing the buttons on my shirt, pushing my bra up so he could caress my naked breasts, unzipping my pants. His hand found my center, and that made me gasp, which made him lose whatever little control he had left. He knelt in front of me, yanked my pants and underwear down, and slid his length inside me, not even bothering to take off any of his clothes. I tried to be as silent as I could, but it was difficult at times. I'd never made love at a beach before, much less to the love of my life. He kept kissing my lips, which helped control the noise a little.

The cool sand on my bare skin was the perfect antidote to the heat that consumed my body. He bent over me to kiss and suckle my breasts, biting them a little in his frenzy. I whimpered a held back moan, wanting to scream so much I thought I would burst. His mouth moved back to my lips as he tried to swallow my small cries.

"I love you Sookie, I love you," he whispered against my lips, over and over. Hearing him, feeling him, I wasn't able to control myself and I exploded underneath him, about a second before he did on top of me. He collapsed, but I was used to his weight by now, so I held him tight. I felt his breath coming hard on my neck, as his head was on my shoulder. I looked up at the stars, catching my breath.

"We've been very naughty," said Eric, trying to recover my clothes.

"No. You were very naughty," I corrected, trying to suppress a smile. "You're a bad influence on me. Very persuasive," I said, putting on my pants, even though I was covered in sand. He chuckled.

"How can I control myself with you? You are unbearably beautiful," he said, holding me close.

We made our slow climb to the house and settled in for the night. I had explored the kitchen and discovered a full fridge and pantry. Eric explained he'd had it stocked with the basics. We really wouldn't have to go anywhere for a few days if we didn't want to.

We opened the windows, and the breeze (plus the ceiling fan) was enough to cool us all night. I woke up first, feeling a little disoriented. The clock said it was seven, but my stomach said it was time for breakfast. I sat up on the bed and noticed that I had lost Eric in its vastness. He was there, alright, way on the other side. I managed to get out of bed without disturbing him, and after my usual morning routine, headed to the kitchen to make breakfast. Whoever stocked my kitchen had left a fresh loaf of the softest tastiest bread. I decided to make egg sandwiches. They were almost ready when Eric shuffled in, looking a little upset.

"You left me alone," he said pouting, as he wound his hands around my waist and buried his face in my neck.

"I wanted you to rest. I was about to come get you: breakfast is ready," I said, pointing at the sandwiches with the spatula in my hand.

"This is your birthday present, and you're cooking for me," he said, almost whining. He _must_ have been sleepy still.

"I'm cooking for us. I'm hungry. What? Turning twenty seven years old makes me completely helpless?" I asked, teasing.

"No, but it was my turn to cook for you," he said, still pouting. His pout disappeared when I handed him his plate and cup of coffee. "It looks really good," he said. He was easy to please, I smiled.

After breakfast we went to the beach, having gotten sidetracked by his apparent inability to resist the lure of my body when it was semi-naked.

The beach was absolutely gorgeous in the light of day. The jetty was actually a half moon formation that allowed water to come in at either side, but controlled the swells. I could see people in the very far distance but there was no one around our little area. The sand was not as sugary fine as the sand of the Gulf, but it was still very light in color and texture. Inside the pool formed by the jetty the water was not only very calm, it was also clear as glass, and it didn't get any deeper than my waist. We walked hand in hand towards the jetty, finding little fish here and there. It got rockier as we approached it, and it was teeming with life. I held Eric back from getting any closer, and pointed at some sea urchins undulating in the soft current. He was mesmerized.

We swam and spent a lazy morning doing nothing, until it was time for lunch. We were famished. I found burgers and made those while frying up some ripe plantains. It wasn't the first time Eric ate Caribbean fare, but he was so happy to be here, that he seemed to be enjoying everything ten-fold. I felt lazy and wanted to take a nap, so after taking a shower I curled up in bed. He was not the nap-taking kind, but he lied down next to me and read a book. I woke up after an hour, ready to do some more whatever.

"Where are we, exactly?" I asked Eric. I knew we were close to where we arrived, and I remembered the island enough to know its basic geography, but I wasn't sure of which town we were in at this moment.

"We are in a town called Isabela," Eric answered, but it sounded like a question.

"Oh, okay. I know where we can go," I said. We got dressed and headed out. I drove. I had a good idea of how to get to where we were going, and I was right. When we arrived there were several cars in the lot. We followed a group towards the far end of Los Jobos beach, hearing several people yell something in the far distance. I looked up at Eric, who seemed to be completely engrossed in whatever was going on.

At the far end of the beach there was a rock formation that looked like a giant keyhole. As we got closer we could see the water churning inside. I knew what would happen if we stood too close, so we kept a safe distance. Suddenly, the people who had been standing near the hole got a drenching surprise, when the sea whipped up a wave tall enough to shoot through the keyhole, sending sea spray at least 50 feet in the air. The people who got drenched were actually quite enjoying themselves. Obviously that had been their intention. Eric started pulling me towards the hole.

"Wait. If you're going to get that close you'll have to shout into it, for good luck," I cautioned. That's what the other people had done, and I knew the story well. Eric looked at me confused. I took a deep breath.

"Okay, get ready: once upon a time there lived a man named Jacinto. He had a herd of cattle that used to graze around here," I waved around at the sparse vegetation. Nothing grew on the rocks. "Legend says that Jacinto's favorite cow got too close to the keyhole and fell, and Jacinto fell after her. So now they're both down there, and to save Jacinto from himself you have to shout 'Jacinto, dame la vaca'," I said. I was smiling by now. It was one of those nutty legends that God only knew how true they could possibly be.

"What does that mean?" asked Eric, not being very conversant in Spanish.

"It means, 'Jacinto, give me the cow'," I said, laughing this time. Eric repeated what I'd said in Spanish a couple of times to try it out then started pulling me again towards the hole. We stood close to the mouth and shouted in unison… and proceeded to get sprayed with salt water. We were laughing as we walked away, to let someone else have a turn.

"This place is amazing. Are there other places with interesting legends?" he asked, wiping his face with his handkerchief after he had offered it to me.

"The ones I know the best are from Old San Juan. We can go. You should see one of the oldest Spanish cities in the New World," I said. He agreed and we walked back to the other side of the beach.

I took Eric to where the vendors' stands made a colorful row, and bought him his first fresh coconut. The man used a machete to open the tops, and gave us straws. I had forgotten how delicious fresh coconut water was, particularly these that had been chilled. We sat under a tree to drink them. When we were done, I asked the vendor to chop them in half for us, and he knew exactly what I wanted, and even made us a scoop from the fleshy outside of the coconut. I taught Eric how to eat the coconut meat. I could tell he was a true traveler, willing to explore and enjoy everything about his new surroundings. I was pleasantly surprised when he pulled me to another one of the stands because he had seen something edible that he wanted to try. Since I knew the names of things, I ordered for him, with him listening intently.

"I want that thing, that round fried thingy, the one that looks like an elephant ear. What is it?" he asked, eyeing one.

"That's a mixture of cod fish and flour, I guess. It's very tasty. They're called 'bacalaitos'," I answered him. We sat at the counter where we ordered, and we each ate one.

On our way home Eric was quiet, absentmindedly playing with my fingers. I wondered what was up, whether he had gotten sick to his stomach or something. But I needn't had to worry at all.

"Do you think we can go to Old San Juan tomorrow? Is it too far?" he asked.

"It's not too far. If we leave early we can enjoy the whole day there. There are a LOT of things to see in the city," I said enthusiastically.

"You won't get to enjoy the beach tomorrow," he said a little apprehensive.

"That's okay. I can go the day after," I said. It was not like I didn't live close enough to a beach.

"I thought you'd think I was being selfish," he mumbled.

"You're so strange sometimes. I told you you'd have to see Old San Juan. Did you think I meant by yourself?" I asked glancing at him.

"No. But I feel like I'm steering you to your next activity because you know that's what I want."

"Like I said, you're a little strange. I haven't been here in 13 years, now. Why wouldn't I want to see as much as I can? And I have the perfect traveling companion. I'm really proud of you for being so open to everything," I said smiling. He smiled back at me. By now we had pulled into the carport. The light was fading, and a little coqui frog had started to sing in a tree nearby.

"Can I ask you for something, though?" I asked as we went inside the house.

"Anything, darling," he answered. He took me by the waist and brought me close to him. His eyes were looking at me expectantly, wanting nothing but to make me happy.

"Can you play me a song on the piano?" I asked shyly. I had never asked before because he played it every day at home. I had missed it today. His answering smile was lovely.

"Of course I will. Did you have anything in mind?" he asked as he pulled me to the piano along with him. He sat on the bench and sat me next to him. I was still thinking about my request when he started playing chopsticks.

"Hmmm… it's tuned," he mumbled. "So, what's your pleasure, my love?" he asked, fingers at the ready, but looking at me.

"Chopin?" I asked. I knew this would take concentration, but he played it so beautifully. He didn't bat an eyelash and played a beautiful song for me. I could see what it took to play a composition so complex. His long fingers moved quickly, the muscles on his arms flexing, his face full of concentration. And he was mesmerizing, a completely different person, still mine. It inspired a quiet awe in me to know that this person loved me as I loved him, that we had found each other. I was allowed to touch him, and he loved to touch me. We had made love so many times, and every time was like the first time, sometimes better.

When Eric finished the sonata, I was still marveling at him. He turned to look at me and took in my expression with a curious look of his own. I smoothed his hair, running my hand down his neck. I pulled him to me and kissed him softly. He kissed me back, knotting his fingers in my hair. I pulled away first.

"I think it's time to thank you properly," I whispered, still close to his lips. He shook his head as I started to stand up. He hadn't wanted me to leave. I stood up completely and smiled at him.

"You'll thank me later. Give me five minutes. Wait right here," I said. He took in a deep breath, and looked almost resigned, though the smile that was playing around his lips assured me he wouldn't come after me and catch me completely naked.

I took off all my clothes and found the teddy. This would be interesting. It was the first item of lingerie that I'd ever owned. Bill hadn't felt the need to see me in anything other than naked. As my thoughts brought me back to Bill I felt a pang of guilt. This time it was different. I was feeling guilty for thinking about my husband at all, when I had the true love of my life waiting for me in the living room, playing a song at the piano while he tried to be patient. I swiftly put Bill back in the far recesses of my mind, and took a deep breath. I looked at myself in the mirror to see what Eric would see. Even with sunscreen, the morning's sun had given me a faint glow. I could see the outline of the bikini strings, but it wasn't that bad. My hair was a little messy, but with the humidity there simply was no good hair day. I otherwise looked cute, I decided. I wasn't stunning, like some of the actresses that Eric had worked with. But he'd always made it clear that I was his type, more than just physically.

I turned this way and that in front of the mirror, gathered my courage, and walked out to the living room. He'd heard me open the bedroom door and switched the song he was playing from something soft and melancholic, to something loud and naughty. I suddenly felt like I belonged at the Moulin Rouge. When I got close I struck a pose, trying to look sexy but feeling utterly awkward. He turned on the bench so he could look at me, and his eyes almost popped out in surprise.

"Oh, that's… that's… SEXY!" he said, stumbling with his own words.

I walked over to him and stood just out of his reach. I twirled slowly in front of him. If I was going to thank him, I was going to thank him properly. He bit his lip as he watched, smiling from ear to ear. I walked over to him and straddled him. His hands were eager but I held them both away from me. I bent to kiss him, and my breathing became ragged. Suddenly I was the one who had lost all control. I pulled his shirt off and ran my hands greedily over his chest, his back, resting them on his broad shoulders.

My lapse had given him the opportunity he had been waiting for. He stood up, and I tightened my legs around his waist. He walked us to the bedroom and literally dumped me on the bed. I watched as he finished taking off his clothes. I didn't even think that the teddy should probably come off, because I'd been so mesmerized by his naked body coming towards me, paired with his hungry blue eyes.

He grabbed my leg and started kissing it from the ankle, running his tongue over my calf, kissing the back of my knee, and the inside of my thigh. He ran his fingers carefully between my skin and the teddy, and pulled the delicate fabric to the side. He kept kissing me, licking me, every time making me shake with pleasure. His fingers had made a slick path, making me beg for him. He complied the minute I said "please." Eric ripped the teddy off my body and took me.

This was it. This was it for me. Life had just gifted me with the most wondrous and exciting thing it could think of. How did people go through life having sex, just sex? Meanwhile this was the perfect blend of naughty and nice. We were hungry for each other; that was plain to see. But halfway through having sex with the most incredibly handsome man, I was making love to the most beautiful person. Our lust slowed down and turned into something sweeter. Our hunger not yet satisfied, but held at bay by something much more delicious. We were one, so much so that we even had a conversation.

"Are you hungry?" he asked me, while he had been kissing my neck. I giggled.

"No. Are you?" I asked, by now his lips had moved to my jaw and I could feel his breath close to my lips.

"A little. I'm hungrier for you right now," he whispered, making his way to my lips. "I love you darling. I love you so much," he said against my chin.

"I love you Eric, my love," I whispered to him, caressing his back.

"Don't ever leave me," he pleaded. The nature of the moment and the fervor in his tone took me by surprise. In what world was I supposed to live without him?

"I won't. I can't. You're my whole world," I answered him. My hands moved to his chest, where I played with his nipples.

"I like that," he said, reacting to my touch, and the sweet moment was gone, replaced by the wild desire.

Eric started moving faster inside me, reaching as deep as he could. I arched my back and felt as his body rubbed the right spot, over and over. "Yes! Eric, yes! Please, please, Eric," I cried out and exploded in his arms at the same time as him. I took everything he had to give me, as he spilled inside me with a mighty cry. He convulsed inside me and settled slowly down half on top of me. I turned my face to look at him. His eyes were soft with love, and I couldn't get enough of his gaze.

We laid in each other's arms for a little bit until his stomach roared in complaint. I had to laugh. He got up grudgingly and rummaged through the floor for clothes. He found my teddy.

"Poor thing. At least it had one good run," he said holding it up. Both of the shoulder straps had come off, and there was a big rip down the middle. He threw it in the trash in the bathroom and padded to the kitchen, wearing only his undies. He came back with a sandwich and a glass of milk. This also had become a routine for us. Sometimes it was a fruit, sometimes a cookie, but when he was hungrier he would bring a sandwich to bed, sit next to me, and watch some late night TV while I fell into a blissful sleep. Tonight he tried to watch late night TV in Spanish, but he'd never liked captions, which would have been the only way to keep up with what they were saying (other than me, but I was too sleepy for interpreting), so he switched it to Letterman. I fell asleep the minute I closed my eyes.

**TBC**


	9. Fear

**A/N**: Thank you all who reviewed, favorited, and alerted this story. Who rocks? Y'all do!

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**Chapter 9 - Fear**

I knew I was having a dream because I noticed that things were at odd angles and jumbled in my peripheral vision. I was acutely aware of each and every single thing that I looked at directly. In the bright light of the overhead sun, everything looked too real. Eric was beside me, but I couldn't see him, I just knew he was there. I looked around and my eyes zeroed in on what I hadn't noticed earlier.

Earlier when this hadn't been a dream, we had strolled down the Paseo de la Princesa, enjoying the vendors and the Old San Juan harbor. We had kissed and held each other, not bothering to notice anyone else around us. Eventually we had made it out of the Paseo and we had explored the rest of Old San Juan.

In my dream I noticed the people I had missed in real life: people with cameras taking our picture. I yelled at them to go away, I yelled at them in Spanish. I could hear Eric in my dream using the language and yelling at them too. I woke up with a start, breathing hard. Eric was still fast asleep next to me. I tried to calm down, but I just couldn't catch my breath. I sat up, grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. It was nearly seven in the morning. I was sure to find some morning talk show. Maybe, just maybe, it had _just_ been a bad dream and I had been imagining things. If not…

I clicked through the channels until I found a promising show. I turned down the volume and listened intently. I didn't have to wait very long: we were news. There, on the TV in our bedroom, under the caption (in Spanish) "Eric's Mystery Girl," was a beautiful picture of Eric and me, looking lovingly into each other's eyes. My heart skipped a beat and started pounding within my chest. I had the feeling that my world had just been turned upside down. I'd only felt this way one other time, after a betrayal of the worst kind.

Thinking about that betrayal helped me put this in perspective. Okay… somebody had a picture of us and had sold it to the local media. No big deal. I had sort of been expecting something, once Eric went back to work. Everyone was bound to find out about me, and I wouldn't be a private person anymore. I would be Eric's girlfriend and, therefore, public, just like him. I began to calm down. I took deep breaths, counting to five on the inhale, and to five on the exhale. In through my nose, out through my mouth. I glanced at Eric out of the corner of my eye, and his eyes were open. This startled me and made me jump out of my skin. So much for the relaxation exercise.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" he asked. This sounded familiar. I must have had the same look on my face that I used to have when we first met. Or else I looked terrified out of my wits, because the minute he took in my expression he sat up in bed and held me tight.

"What's wrong?" he repeated. This time his tone demanded an answer. What was I supposed to say? He would find out sooner or later, and he did warn me. The story was no longer on the TV, so I would have to explain without the help of proof.

"I believe we were spotted yesterday in Old San Juan. Someone sold our picture to the local media," I said, trying to keep my tone even.

"Oh," was all he could manage to say, but his eyes moved instinctively towards the TV.

"They showed it already. They won't show it again until the next hour, probably," I said, nodding towards the show on the TV. Now they were talking about some other celebrity.

"Are you okay?" he asked again, his tone cautious.

"Yes, I think," I answered slowly, studying his expression. He seemed concerned. "I was just taken by surprise that's all. I guess I hadn't prepared mentally for my fifteen minutes of fame," I said. Sure my picture was posted as belonging to my brother's band, but it was a local band, and the pictures had only been posted on local newspapers. On those I looked nothing like myself, what with all the makeup that Chris had put on me. What was more, those were taken with my consent, and they weren't taken in the midst of a very private moment. But I couldn't freak out now… so I smiled as convincingly as I could for Eric. He wasn't convinced.

"I'll call around and see who else has pictures. Maybe we can stop it," he said serious.

"No, Eric. For goodness sakes… if you make this into a big deal, the more they're going to want to know why you're being so protective. Leave it alone and they'll fade away," I said, trying to soothe him. He wasn't soothed.

"Nevertheless… I'd like to know where it's coming from so I'm prepared," he said. He seemed to be getting madder by the second.

"Hey…" I said in a soft voice. I put my hand on his cheek and made him look at me. "I'm okay, I promise," I said, stroking his cheek, trying to soothe him some more. He gave me a half smile. I knew he wasn't going to let it go. Oh, well… this was more his world than mine, so I would have to trust him and let him do whatever he felt was necessary.

He started making phone calls as soon as we were done with breakfast, so I got bored quickly. I was trying to think of what to do, and decided that a trip to the market was in order. We were halfway through our stay and running low on staples. That wouldn't take me very long and he should have finished all his calls by the time I returned.

"I'll go with you," he said, about to put on his shoes.

"Eric… will you please stay? Finish your calls and I'll be back in half an hour," I said, and I ran out before he could say anything or stop me.

When I returned, however, I could hear him yelling in a way I'd never heard him yell before. He sounded livid. I brought the groceries in and moved slowly around the kitchen, listening to the side of the conversation that I _could_ hear.

"You have got to stop it! There must be something you can do," a pause. "I don't care. Who is that woman anyway?" another pause. "She has no right! That's slander, and I want you to hire a lawyer… Yes, I'll pay for it, what did you think?" a longer pause this time. Then his voice was low and rumbling, like thunder erupting from his chest, and menacing, when he spoke again. "If you will not do something, ANYTHING, to stop it from printing, you are fired," and Eric almost threw his cell phone at the wall, but saw me before he could follow through. What I'd heard had scared me, mostly because Eric had always been the better one of us, the one who could look at the cloud and see the silver lining, and the one who never got angry. But he was beyond angry, until he saw me standing, frozen in shock as I was, at the door to the living room.

His expression changed, and he was struggling. He seemed to be at a loss for words. But his eyes softened when he realized that I was scared.

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry," he said walking over to me, his arms open. He hugged me hard, too hard. I wrapped my arms around him too, but this was a mechanical thing. I wasn't sure what else to do. "I'm taking care of everything, okay? Don't worry," he said trying to make his voice soft, but it came out rougher than he intended.

"What's going on? Who were you talking to and what were you talking about?" I asked when I finally found my voice. I tried to make it sound upset, but instead it sounded pathetic.

"I was talking to my manager. She found out more about this. The pictures sold in the states and they were news there this morning too. And…" he stopped talking. "And that's it," he said. Did he really think I wasn't paying attention? Okay, NOW I was mad.

"What woman, what lawyer, what's going to print?" I asked. Something in my brain had already made the connection. I just wanted verification. There was a woman in Louisiana, desperate for money, who thought I had callously killed her son. She would be willing to sell anything, particularly a story, if it would help her get money and revenge. Lorena Compton, Bill's mother, would definitely jump at this chance to destroy my life some more.

"It seems you already know," he whispered, looking at me. His pain was a mirror of mine. God, my heart! I couldn't bear to see him like this, taking on my pain. It was physically painful to see his face twisted like this. I couldn't help it, I started to cry. Silent tears started to stream down my face.

"Sweetheart, I'm taking care of everything. You don't have to worry about a thing, okay? I'm here," he said, holding my wet face against his chest, stroking my hair tenderly.

"I'm not worried about me," I mumbled into his shirt.

"Then, what are you worried about?" he asked, making small circles on my back.

"You," I answered, shrugging.

"Me?"

"Look what this is doing to you? My life is a freakin' mess!" I yelled as I pulled away from him. I started pacing the living room, this time my tears were of anger. "I dragged you into this because I'm selfish. I couldn't even think about what my past could do to you. I just wanted to be with you… Oh, no! Forget about your career, let's focus on Sookie, me me me! I should have known! I. SHOULD. HAVE. KNOWN! Why did I drag you into this?" I stopped, my anger fading, my rambling done. All that was left was a big empty void. "I'm so sorry, Eric," I said, and sank on the floor, to cry in earnest. "I'm so sorry," I mumbled again, curling up and resting my forehead on my knees, willing the earth to open underneath and swallow me whole. Before I could think another thought, he was next to me on the floor, trying to bring my face up, but I wouldn't budge.

"Sookie…" he said softly at first, but when I didn't respond he called out my name sternly. I brought my face up, but refused to open my eyes. I held them tightly shut, wincing. His touch on my face made me relax a little, but my eyes wouldn't open… knowing that they would see a mask of pain on his face.

"I need you to look at me, Sookie," he said, stern once more. His voice was the only sound I ever wanted to hear for the rest of my life, and so I had to obey. I opened my eyes, and his face was soft, his eyes as full of love right now as they had been yesterday, and the day before that, and every day since we had met.

"I don't think there should be a doubt in your mind that one day, soon, I am asking you to marry me," he said, holding my gaze. My breath caught in my chest, and my heart started galloping faster than ever. For a second the room disappeared. Thankfully I was too curious for the rest of his sentence to lose consciousness at this very moment.

"Part of making a life with another person is promising that you'll look after each other, for better or for worse. This is not the worst," he managed to smile. "If you were sick, or if I were about to lose you, that would be much worse than this, by far. This is just… a hiccup," he said, smoothing my hair. He took a deep breath, and let it out in a soft grumble, but his smile was still in place. "And now I've just gone and ruined the surprise," he said, letting out a soft chuckle. I looked at him willing him to explain. He read my expression.

"Now you will be expecting me to pop the question at every turn, you who love surprises so much," he said tenderly. He scooped me up from the floor and sat us down on the sofa, with me on his lap. I hugged myself to his neck and he rubbed my back in slow circles. We stayed like that for a long time. I hadn't noticed that I'd closed my eyes, and was half asleep when my own phone rang in the back pocket of my shorts. I glanced at the caller ID: it was my mom.

"I saw your picture. Everyone is very excited," she said. She sounded happy.

"Mom… somehow Lorena got a hold of someone, or someone got a hold of her, and she's about to talk," I said, bursting her bubble. There were a few seconds of silence on the other line.

"We have the letters. We can fight dirty too," said my mom. She usually had a very similar temper to Eric's, so hearing her say things like that made me very anxious.

"No, Mom! Absolutely not. I'm sure you'll start getting phone calls when the story breaks. We'll deal with it then. Remember that this affects Eric more than us," I said, shooting a glance at him. He was shaking his head, asking for the phone with his free hand.

"Hang on. Eric wants to talk to you," I said, handing him my phone.

"What letters?" he asked the second he had the phone. I knew the answer, and he was listening intently. "Can you email them to me?" he asked again. He breathed a quick sigh, and his mouth turned into a sneer. To say I didn't like that expression on him would have been an understatement. He looked evil again, not like my Eric at all. He handed me the phone back.

"It seems like Eric has a plan," said my mom in my ear again.

"Yes. I'm not too happy right now," I said to her, but eyeing him. There was a question in his eyes, which he got to ask after I hung up.

"What are you not happy about?" he was still trying to soothe me, his voice was gentle.

"Whatever she does, I would rather not sink to her level. It will not paint you in a good light, never mind the fact that this isn't your problem to deal with," I said, and then regretted saying the last part. I could see the pain I'd just caused ripple through his features.

"I don't want to hear you say that again, Sookie Stackhouse," he said, turning his pain into anger. "You are mine, your problems are my problems. I love you," he held me closer.

"I love you too," I replied, which of course was my main problem. I didn't want to hurt him. He didn't want to let me go. And I didn't want to let go of him, which would continue hurting him… because whatever was coming, was going to be messy.

For now I could just enjoy my time with him as much as possible… one day at a time. Who knew? Maybe nothing too bad would happen and the whole mess would blow through quickly. I was counting on that, because if things went bad… I refused to think of what I could make myself do to keep Eric safe, to keep him from further sinking into the mess of my life.

I reached for his face, to look into his eyes. I held his gaze for a long time, and his eyes mesmerized me, calmed me, like only he could. He didn't pull away, or become bored. He was just as happy to look into my eyes, just as calmed by me as I was by him. A soft smile formed on his beautiful lips. I couldn't help but run my finger gently over them, making him respond to my touch. He closed his eyes, waiting for my kiss, but right now I just wanted to look at him.

Eric indulged me and let me do to him as I pleased. I sank into a tiny reverie, remembering the dream I'd had of marrying him in a beautiful old church, the stained glass windows making rainbows down the aisle where I walked. The beautiful man holding me now was waiting for me at the end of the aisle, his expression one of triumph and utter happiness.

I had to make him happy, no matter the cost. Seeing him raging earlier had scared me and broken my heart. That I had been the source of his rage, however indirectly, was not something I was willing to live through… or put him through again. I would have to do something, but what? I wasn't willing to leave him, though I knew I should. What was more, would he let me go? Which of the two options would hurt him more? I knew which decision would hurt me more, but how could I bear to hurt him with either one?

I stood up suddenly. His eyes flew open at my unexpected movement, and his arms clung to nothing but air. He was hurt. I could feel it within myself as my own heart sank in the absence of his warmth.

"I'm going for a walk," I said, taking a deep breath and turning to leave. I was about to cry. I could feel it. I could feel the lump in my throat and the ache from holding it all in. I walked swiftly, but Eric was faster. He had caught me on the way to the bedroom. I had been trying to escape to the beach, so I could think.

"Not without me," he said, turning me to him when he caught me. His voice was gentle, his touch even more so. "Please, not right now," he said, almost begging. He didn't want me to leave him alone. I nodded looking down. I felt ashamed at my desire to be alone at this particular moment.

We walked down to the beach and stood in front of the shallow pool, just taking in the view. I bent to pick up a pretty shell. I'd seen these before but they were rare. It was a long concave oval, about a half an inch long, with spots that resembled a leopard. I washed the sand off it at the edge of the water, and showed it to Eric. He took it from me and studied it, turning it this way and that. He put it in his pocket and smiled. I continued shelling, and he walked beside me. We didn't speak. We just enjoyed each other's company in this simple task. He found a few pieces of dead coral, smooth as river pebbles, but threw those back. I found a dead sea urchin, bleached white by the sun. It had probably been eaten by a starfish, all the spiky parts gone. The only thing left looked like its skeleton, round and white, dimpled, with a hole through the middle. I showed it to Eric. He looked at it curiously.

"What is it?" he asked, turning it this way and that. He looked through its hole at me, using it like an eyepiece. I explained what it was and he put it in his pocket. Good thing he was wearing cargo shorts…

It was getting close to lunch time when we started making our way back to the house, and his phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, and answered it. Obviously it was someone important, but I was a little peeved that he didn't tell me who. So I listened to what he was saying, trying to figure out what was being said (and by whom) on the other side of the line.

"Yes… We're still here… Yes… Alright, but we need to stop at home for a few days, at least… Alright, but I don't think it's necessary… No, tomorrow is better… Tomorrow is better, Nancy," this time his tone was a little like a boss giving instructions to an insubordinate employee. "The later the better… Call me and let me know… Thanks, Nancy," and he hung up. He turned to me with a pained expression on his face.

"We'll have to cut your birthday trip short, I'm afraid," he said, answering the question that was plain on my face.

"Why?"

"Because you're coming with me to New York for the junket," he answered.

"Am I?" I asked, crossing my arms. I didn't quite enjoy being told what to do, not in that way.

"Darling, please let me explain before you get mad," he took a deep breath. "Nancy says it's a done deal. The tabloids are running with the stupid story and it will be better for everyone, you and me, if we're together. For one they'll know where to find you easily. They won't bother you at home while I'm not there. Also, if they know we're together, then the story loses its bite. The rest of the media will be hesitant to run with it for fear of sounding stupid." Eric looked at me waiting for some kind of response.

I mulled it over. I would spend some time in New York City, but would I even be able to go out. Regardless, Eric would be busy all day for five days. Not exactly fun either. There was only one question that needed an answer, forget the other ones.

"Will you be happier if I go?" I asked, eyeing him carefully.

"Yes, very much so. If you're close I'll know you're okay, even when I can't check on you. If you stay home, I won't be able to check on you AND I won't know you're okay. I'd rather you come with me, for my own peace of mind," he said, but made a face. "I know it will be a little bit boring for you, and I'm really sorry. I'll try to rearrange my schedule a little bit so we can spend time together," he said, this time he put his hands on my shoulders.

"Okay. I'll go and I won't be whiny about it. If this is what you need to keep your sanity, then this is what we'll do," I said.

We ate lunch while he told me what the plan was for the next day. We would take a private jet to get back home, because his manager was now calling the shots and that's what she wanted. She was also sending a person to pick us up and see us onto the plane and then on home. Apparently this person would stay with us until further notice. A bodyguard.

I was too stressed to think about anything exciting… I put on my bathing suit mechanically, because Eric had suggested it. I lathered my skin with sunscreen and then Eric's. My head was having a tough time fitting all the information in. I was actually quite mad at Lorena.

Lorena hadn't been the best mother in law in the history of them. She was the kind of person who would give suggestions that were meant to be taken as orders. When she told me (told me!) to cremate Bill and just give her the ashes, I couldn't do that. She had wanted me to "save money," in her own words, and skip the memorial service and burial. In the end I did have his body cremated, but only because he had made his wishes clear to me in one of our better-days conversations. But I had a memorial service because his department needed to say goodbye to him, and had his ashes put in a beautiful marble mausoleum. I even paid for the plaque, though I hadn't stayed in Louisiana long enough to see it put in place. No matter what Eric had done to me, I had to give him a proper goodbye. When I put the house on the market I was shocked to find that it was worth about the same as when we had purchased it. It sold quicker than I'd dared to hope, but there was almost no equity in it. I spent almost all of Bill's life insurance money paying for the funeral, paying off his brand new car (so I could then sell it, since I wasn't going to keep it), and whatever bills he had left me with, which included some very high credit card bills from his "meetings" with the other woman. I'm sure Lorena didn't know that tidbit, but if she was going to be that way, I could sink to her level and win.

I was thinking about all this and fuming, my own internal struggle, when I felt Eric's hands on my back. We were in the water. _How did we get here?_

"You are so tense," he said, working out a knot on my shoulder and kissing the back of my neck. His touch brought me back to reality. I took a few deep breaths, letting him calm me further. He ran his lips from the back of my neck to my shoulder, making me shiver. He turned me around to face him.

"Let's go for a swim," he said to me smiling. I nodded, and let myself float away on my back, moving my arms slowly to propel me backwards. Eric was swimming a little far from me and I saw him duck under the water. He came up beside me, standing over me. He reached for my legs and wrapped them around his waist. He spun me slowly, the warm water making funny sounds in my head. I focused on this moment, and how carefree it could be if I just let go. So I did, I let go because: I was with Eric; this was our last night in Puerto Rico; and this particular place was too beautiful to spend it doing anything other than enjoying it.

**TBC**

**A/N: The next chapter is a little treat from Eric's POV.**


	10. The Universe in My Arms

**A/N:** This is Eric's POV, but it overlaps the timeline we already know. That means he remembers things that Sookie didn't tell us or were not important to her… or she simply didn't notice but he did. And, of course, the reverse is true. This is the chapter that truly gives the story its "Romance" label.

I know these updates are coming fast and furious… As y'all know most of this is already written and just needed some editing. Depending on how much editing it needed, that's how fast I can upload it… plus, of course, my other baby needs some TLC once in a while.

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**Chapter 10 – The Universe in my Arms**

I watched Sookie relaxing more and more every second, her legs wrapped around me. Her blond hair looked wild floating in the water, undulating around her beautiful face. Her big blue eyes were staring up at the sky, and a little smile had started to form on her lips. She was so lovely. Everything about her was so soft. It scared me that she had been so upset when she saw _me_ upset. Actually, she had looked scared, as if I would lash out at her. As if I ever could hurt her. She had been so trusting with me, from the beginning. This very nature of hers had given her the guilt that plagued her after her husband's death. It maybe even gave her the hope that her thankless marriage would somehow improve if only she held on long enough. What a way to betray this beautiful woman's trust. I never could.

She was mine. She had shown me and told me so many times that she belonged to me. My life was going to hurt her, and I felt I would go mad with rage. Everything that usually conspired against me was starting to turn on her instead. I would have to protect her. No one else had ever done the job properly. She was mine to protect now. And she would be mine: I would make her my wife. Of that much I was sure. My Sookie. She was the one.

I studied her features as she closed her eyes, and I couldn't help but touch her. Her small frame belied her true strength, as her legs wrapped around me in a vise, as they'd done a so many times already. I ran my hands from her ribs to her waist, noticing the way her skin always reacted: she turned warmer, amazing. I was always amazed that she let me touch her at all, more so that my touch would be welcomed, craved. I ran a finger from her neck, tracing the contours of her breasts, and immediately her body seemed to sing to me. Just like her own singing, it was pure and unexpected.

I lifted her out of the water, her legs still around me. Her eyes searched mine like they always did, for the meaning of my actions. She could see so much within me. I kissed her slowly at first, just taking in her sweet scent, her breath, the feel of my tongue on her smooth lips, and then the frenzy began. Would I be able to make it to the house? Would anyone see us if we stayed here? I suddenly didn't care. I pulled on one of the strings of her bottom and entered her. She held on to my neck, still kissing me back and moaning softly. I was again overwhelmed by the fact that she let me do that to her, take her and make her mine over and over. I held her tight against me. The love and the lust I felt for her were all I needed in this world.

"Eric," she whispered. I knew what she meant at once. She wasn't calling my name to make me take notice. She was only telling me that I was the source of her physical pleasure. If we had been anywhere else but here, she would have practically screamed it. The knowledge of this, the memory of all our nights and days together, the countless times I had taken her, made her mine as I was hers, suddenly became too much to bear. I spilled inside her, letting the feeling take me. All I had left in me was her name. "Sookie," I groaned in her ear. We kept holding each other for a long time, until she giggled and pulled away enough to examine my face.

She ran her hand down my cheek, smoothing my beard. Even this new development in my features didn't seem to bother her. She still looked at me with the same wonder in her eyes.

"I love you," she said simply, looking into my eyes.

"I love you too, my beautiful girl," I told her, rearranging a lock of her hair. I left my hand on her neck, where I could still feel her heart beating a little faster than normal. I wanted to ask her to marry me, be my family, right here, right now. I held my tongue. It had been a very stressful day. There was no need to add more to this particular mix. I would ask her properly, the way she deserved, with a ring in hand… and only when I was feeling like I wouldn't lose her. Right now that possibility was all too real.

"I'll make everything alright. Please trust me," I said to her. I wanted to reassure her.

"I know, honey," she said to me softly. She held me closer to her and ducked her head under my chin, to rest on my chest. I knew she would trust me no matter what. It was her nature.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I looked to my left, curious to see who my neighbor was. I hadn't been expecting anybody in this neighborhood to arrive home after nine or ten in the evening, and it was nearly three in the morning. When I saw the figure of a young woman, walking fast from her car to the house, I half expected it would be the house's owner's daughter or lover. What else would explain that particular vision? And she looked stunning: wild blond hair, tight pants and top showing off all her curves. She looked small from where I stood. I was almost shocked still. Only when she went inside her house was I able to move again. Had she seen me? She must have. Would she be able to tell who I was in the dark? Probably not.

The next day I woke up unusually late. I was still used to West Coast time. It was nearly ten in the morning. I peered from my front window to the house where I'd seen the beautiful woman. Her car was still there, but there didn't seem to be any movement. Curiosity got the best of me, and I found myself looking every so often. At one point her car disappeared from her driveway. I almost kicked myself for missing her departure. I had been emptying boxes all day. It was the most boring task. I stopped happily when I heard her car return. I peered through my window again and was taken aback by the sight of the same woman: she was so young. She must have been younger than me by a couple of years. Her presence was incongruous with the neighborhood. Her perfectly tanned skin was now covered in more modest clothes: a pair of jeans and a too-big t-shirt. As she made her way back and forth from her garden, I could see her face: big eyes, pretty lips, the blond hair was held back into a loose ponytail. I didn't see her anymore from where I was standing, but I knew she was working in front of her house.

It was quite sudden. At first I didn't hear anything at all, and suddenly I heard the sound of a shovel being abused. My gentlemanly ways got the best of me (not to mention my raging curiosity), and I stepped outside to see what exactly she was doing. I had enough gardening experience to help her, if she needed help. She was certainly trying to hack her garden to pieces, yet succeeding very little. I wondered what was wrong… I crept closer. A loud roar (a growl) issued from her, along with a sob. I walked to her swiftly and startled her. She fell. I felt responsible and quickly scooped her up back onto her feet. Her big light blue eyes took me in, a little confused at first. Then the realization of who I was dawned on her the more she heard me talk, and her confusion turned to wonder. It was just as brilliant to see her up close. She was beautiful. My heart ached that her blue eyes were tinged with red because she was crying, and all I wanted to know was what had made her cry, so that I could make it better. She dirtied her face in an effort to hide her tears from me. Before I even knew her name, this beautiful woman had mesmerized me beyond what I thought I was capable of feeling. She was so trusting. She even let me clean her face and help her with her garden.

She invited me into her home. Her sweet voice was soothing, like a balm for my broken heart. I looked around, trying to see if she lived alone or with a husband. She seemed to have just moved in as well, not because there were boxes to unpack, but because there was nothing on the walls of her house. When she told me her story, I understood everything: why she lived next to her parents, and why she had been able to open up to me. We were kindred spirits. I told her my story too, and her reaction was one of genuine sadness for me. But her expression went from sadness to guilt. I could tell she felt guilty about something. I assumed it was because she'd had to make a very difficult decision when she took her husband off the machines that kept him alive.

Sookie was getting into me. She was my ray of sunshine in the dreary world I had built for myself over the past two years. Even though we shared the same pain, she was easy to make smile. I found myself smiling at her, if only because her expressions were so interesting and unexpected. Once I smiled at her, she would smile right back. It was lovely, that I had that effect on her. She was also quite smart and witty, whenever I was able to get her to speak. She was mostly shy around me. That, in and of itself, endeared her to me. Sookie didn't need to voice her opinions at every turn, and she seemed to intuitively know when I needed comfort. She also knew what to say, what would comfort me. I wanted to be her comfort too.

When she agreed to show me the nursery, I almost jumped for joy. I was going to have her all to myself for a period of time. And the excuse I had come up with was as good as gold. I was so nervous, that I drove slower than usual. My stomach kept making little flips whenever she moved in her seat. She never noticed the effect she had on me. I kept looking at her sideways whenever I could, just to explore her: her hands fluttered when her words failed. She wore a watch with a blue face on her left wrist, and tiny golden hoop earrings. On her neck was a substantial gold chain. I had noticed it the day before. It seemed to be a part of her.

"That is a beautiful necklace," I commented, wondering about it. It could have been a gift from her husband, and that made me a little jealous. She wasn't wearing her wedding rings, but maybe she kept him close some other way.

"Thank you. My parents gave it to me for my 16th birthday," she explained, barely noticing how her hand had lightly touched it, caressed it even. The necklace had meaning for her, and I finally understood. Sookie was exceptionally close to her family. This necklace was her way to keep her _family_ close. There was no need to be jealous, I told myself. I couldn't understand why I had felt that way to begin with. She wasn't mine.

At the nursery she wandered like a vision in a rainforest. It didn't matter that she was wearing jeans and a simple shirt. She would have looked lovely in a potato sack. The sun caught in her hair, sending sparkles through the strands, a halo around her beautiful face. When she stood next to a hibiscus, her slender finger stroking a petal, I thought I would die to engrave that picture in my memory. It wasn't because she was standing next to a pretty plant. It was because her face had softened into an expression of wonder so exquisite my heart ached to touch her. She looked like a painting.

I was excited at the prospect that I would have something else to show her the next day, another excuse to see her. My sailboat arrived right on time, and the moment I had received it and signed for its delivery, I half ran to Sookie's house. I could faintly hear music coming from inside her house. As I approached, I stopped in my tracks, right outside her door. Above the music, I could hear her singing. Her voice rang like a bell. I could tell she had a good set of lungs, as loud as she sang. She was loud, and just beautiful. She could have given any diva a run for her money. I kept a tally of all the beautiful things that made up this breathtaking person, including the things that one could not see, like her compassion, and her trusting nature. She had already shown me compassion the day before, during our trip back home from the nursery. Not only had she shown compassion, she had shown me how perceptive she was: more to add to my tally.

When Sookie accepted, quite good-naturedly, to go see my sailboat with me, I couldn't help it anymore. Her pull was like gravity, and I had to touch her. I took her hands in mine as I helped her into the boat, and I didn't want to let her go. I had to do something about these feelings I had for her. I had to know if she wanted me too. I had to remind myself that maybe she wasn't ready yet. After all, she had been alone for a shorter time than me. But once again (as I found myself confiding in her, and as she was able to perceive much more than what I'd said), I was astonished at how much she seemed to understand, and at how much her words of comfort soothed my battered heart. I fell in love, totally and unconditionally, the minute she touched my hand of her own volition. Her touch was soft, hesitant, and unimaginably warm in more ways than physical. I felt my stomach make a quick flip flop of nervousness, and my heart soar.

Later, when I had Sookie all to myself and she was calmly watching my favorite movie, I contemplated my next move. Would I be able to slowly nurture the relationship, be patient, and hope that she was interested in me too? Somehow I couldn't see myself being patient. The way I was feeling about her, physically and mentally: I wanted her badly. I felt so selfish. But if she liked me too, then it wouldn't be selfish at all. Sometimes I caught glimpses of something in her eyes, something she was trying very hard to keep hidden. The problem with that was that it kept me wondering whether she wanted me, or was intimidated by me, or just plain surprised at my presence. It was _something_. I wished to figure it out.

Sookie seemed completely absorbed in the movie, enjoying it as much as I enjoyed it. I hadn't been able to pay attention at all, thinking of the best way to approach her. I took her hand and kissed the soft skin over her knuckles, turned it around and kissed her wrist. Her face took on that unbearably beautiful expression of wonder I had seen the day before, and I couldn't help but touch her now. I hugged her to me, and it was like finding home. I hadn't understood the pull of another human being until that moment. I had acted it out a million times or more, I thought I'd had a home with my wife, but it all paled in comparison to having Sookie in my arms, and me being in hers. All the feelings that surged through me as I hugged her paled in comparison to the realization that she was hugging me back. I couldn't believe how amazingly lucky I had gotten: to have found her so suddenly, when I wasn't even looking.

When I finally gathered the courage to kiss her soft lips, she pulled away, and it almost broke my heart. I shouldn't have assumed that kissing was alright. In truth, I hadn't assumed anything at all. I had barely even formed the thought when my lips met hers. But she gave me permission to kiss her when I asked, and she kissed me back. I was anxious to make her mine, but I knew that would have to wait. For now I treasured this kiss: her soft lips, the taste of her tongue, her sweet breath, the feel of her hands on me as she explored me, as I explored her. That's when I first noticed what my touch would do to her. Her body reacted by turning warmer under my touch: one second I touched the cool skin on the back of her arms, the next they were blazing hot. Her movements would match mine, in harmony, like she was singing but with her body. Her body was singing to me, from her eager lips to the leg that she had suddenly wrapped around mine so she could pull me closer. If this is how she felt about me when we were kissing, I wondered what it would be like to make love.

We hugged for a very long time. I had to calm down a little. As I rubbed her back, I could feel that her heart was hammering against her insides, just like mine was. I was sure she could hear mine, but I didn't care. I was past hiding what I felt for her. Sookie sighed in my arms, an echo of what I was feeling at the same time.

I suddenly remembered I had been invited to dinner at her family's house. I wanted, more than anything else, to make her happy. Her family was her life, and as much as I wanted to keep her for myself here in my house, I wanted to take her back to her family that much more. I could tell she needed that. She needed the comfort, and since I wanted to comfort her, I made a point of being early for dinner.

Sookie's family was kind. I could tell where she had gotten some of her shyness, but also some of her wit and wisdom. Her mom, Charlie, had the same color blue eyes as Sookie, and they were dancing with joy at seeing us together. Her dad, Donnie, was a quieter person. But he could not keep from practically staring at his daughter's transformation. Neither could her brother, Jason. I guessed Sookie had been a very sad person for a very long time. Charlie had dared to ask about my work, something that Sookie either found boring, or else couldn't bring herself to ask me. One quick glance at her as I was answering one of Charlie's questions told me it wasn't boring to her. Sookie was truly interested in my answers. This buoyed me to continue answering any and all questions thrown at me. It was obvious that Sookie's apparent lack of eloquent speech was simply a result of shyness, not of caring.

I found myself so happy in her family's company (and in Sookie's company too) that I became physically hungry. I'd heard of this before: people who fell in love and started eating more. They became fat with happiness. I had three helpings of everything during dinner (fueled in part by Charlie's approving smile), and I would have eaten cake forever for dessert if there hadn't been a threat of a thunderstorm. I didn't want to be trapped at Charlie and Donnie's, even though I had enjoyed my time with them. I wanted to be trapped somewhere alone with Sookie. I wanted to kiss her again, touch her, smell her, taste her. Now the only hunger that needed satiety was the one I felt for her.

I walked slowly, swollen with food and unable to end the time I spent with Sookie. We kissed goodbye at her doorstep. She hesitated at the door, and I knew it wasn't our time yet. As much as I wanted her, if I truly respected and cared for her I would go home tonight, but not before securing a promise from her to spend the next day with me.

It was a pleasure to cook for her. It felt like I was taking care of her. Per usual, she surprised me with her smarts, asking me what I was cooking for breakfast in perfect, if accented, French. Later I confessed to her that I hadn't played the piano in a long time, and she understood immediately, looking chagrined at the fact that she had asked me to play for her. What better time to start playing again? What better person to have for an audience?

Our very first argument happened as a result of her thoughtfulness. It wasn't even an argument. She said she would drive us to the beach so my car wouldn't get dirty. I disagreed. She was stubborn. What an unexpected and pleasant surprise to discover that my kisses disarmed her. I indulged in the pleasure of her lips, persuading her to let me be the one to drive simply by doing what I had replayed in my mind over and over the night before. She yielded to me. Sookie let me win by a kiss, and I drove us to the beach in my car.

If I had thought I'd won the battle, I had completely lost the war. The minute she took off her dress and stood in only her bathing suit, all I could think about is how she had me completely at her mercy. It wasn't even the sexiest suit, but all I could see was the beautiful silhouette formed by her full breasts, her thin waist, her supple hips, beautiful tanned legs. I ached to touch her, and took the opportunity to put sunscreen on her back, marveling again at how her skin warmed under my hands. She returned the favor, and I couldn't get enough of the feel of her tentative touch on my skin. I asked for more. Sookie's small hands caressed my chest as she spread the sunscreen. I hadn't counted on her touch on my nipples. The sudden need that welled within me, just because of that simple touch, was a raging animal. I raised my hand with every intention of touching her breast, laying it bare and kissing it in the middle of the beach, but I stopped myself. I knew I could spend a day with her, getting to know her in every way without touching her. I _wanted_ to know her. Obviously I couldn't mar my best intentions by giving in to my desires.

Sookie was a siren. She turned out to be a strong swimmer, much stronger than I thought. I let her win at every turn, although it was close. She dared open her eyes under the salty water, so she had the advantage for sure. Later we lied under the sun after lunch, and she fell asleep. I was content to simply guard her sleep. I knew she was still having nightmares, and I wondered about that. What was it that was giving her such terrors? She had said it was an unhealthy reason, but chose not to go into detail and I respected that. I didn't pry, but I was curious as hell.

We ordered dinner to take to her house and eat there, since we were hungry but too dirty to linger at the diner she preferred. I stared at her every chance I got, wishing I were a piece of sauerkraut from her sandwich so I could either enter her mouth or land on her chest. She was a messy eater, and not embarrassed, or else she felt at ease with me, enough to care very little about the mess she was making of her food.

I only left her house so I could take a shower, with every intention of coming back and watching a movie with her. As soon as the warm water hit me, all I could think of was Sookie's touch on my chest, her beautiful body, her wet hair clinging to her soft neck as she emerged from the water. I became hard with want. I let my hand tease my erection, imagining my fingers were hers. When I closed my eyes all I could see were her hips swaying as she walked to the beach, the rise of her breasts, how her nipples had hardened at the mere thought of my touch, her lips, her tongue… I made myself come with my mind full of Sookie.

At least that particular endeavor had eased the tension from the day, and I felt infinitely better able to resist her charms. When I arrived back at her house, she was still wearing her bathing suit, her hair still wild from the beach. She flushed when I asked her if she'd been busy, which she evidently had. She asked me to give her some time to take a shower. I wanted, again, to give her whatever she wanted. If she had asked for my car, my boat, my bank account number, she would have gotten them without hesitation. But she was not the kind to ask for any of that. She wanted a shower, and patience. So I patiently waited while I perused her home entertainment system.

I discovered she had a couple of my movies on her internet movie queue. I also discovered more movies featuring a different actor in the same queue. I again felt a pang of jealousy. Why was I feeling this way? That other actor had made one more movie than me the year before, therefore he had one more movie than me out for viewing, and Sookie happened to have all of them on her queue. I calmed down as curiosity took over, and I chose to watch one of mine while I waited for her. I couldn't help but be a little amused at the way I looked. I was half naked most of the time, and pale as a ghost. I wondered if Sookie had seen the movie yet, and what she'd thought of me in it. Surely, I couldn't have looked very handsome to her.

She emerged from her shower after only twenty minutes. The soft scent of her perfume reached me before she did. But when I looked at her she was wearing a mask of embarrassment. I quickly went to her. Nothing ever troubled me more than seeing her upset in any way. She finally explained that she thought I would be upset because my movies were in her movie queue. I couldn't understand this, but it didn't take me long: she must have watched this movie a few times already. I couldn't help but smile. It felt amazing: the knowledge that she had liked my work enough to watch it more than once. I pulled her with me to the sofa.

Before Sookie could sit next to me I stopped her. I had just noticed her clothes. She was wearing a shirt that was like her second skin. I could see the outline of every curve, and the subtle color difference that her bra made under the shirt. Her long pants looked a little too big on her, but even this made her curves stand out all the more. I pulled her in front of me. I wanted to find out where her scent was concentrated. I lifted her shirt so I could kiss the soft skin of her belly. She gasped. I suddenly remembered that I should not be doing this. She was a vulnerable person, not just a normal woman, but one that had been hurt tremendously. I knew what the loss had felt like to me. I was still grieving for my wife, even though I had felt like I had lost her well before her actual death.

I stopped suddenly, looking at her. Her eyes were closed, but they opened just as suddenly as I had stopped. There was hurt. I apologized for my brazenness, for wanting to touch her and be with her so badly. But she explained in her soft voice, my balm, that she didn't want me to stop kissing or touching her. Her slender fingers wound through my hair as she told me that she felt the same way about me. The hurt faded quickly and her expression turned into wonder again.

Sookie's eyes were lovely. I looked at her intensely as she studied my features, exploring me again with her soft touch. I studied her again in the same way. Her eyes were flecked with gray, though they were blue. Her hair made imperfect strands that framed her face. Her tanned skin would turn bright red wherever I touched her or kissed her. She looked serene as she took me in. This time _she_ kissed _me_. It was the most gentle, the most soulful, the most extraordinary kiss that anyone had ever given me. She was being careful with me. It touched me. Just when I thought I couldn't have fallen any harder for her, I kept falling, again and again. With every kiss and every touch.

Feeling her legs becoming wobbly, I pulled her astride me to keep her from falling. I wanted to keep her safe, even from herself. For a long time all I could think of was our kiss and how much I wanted her. Then the reality of my life hit me like a sack of bricks. How could I keep her safe from the public part of me? That was not something that just anyone could get used to. She was such a shy person. I braced for the worst, and gave her a chance to leave me.

I felt my heart quiver with a strange pain as I told Sookie the words that could make her leave. She listened, as I knew she would. She also eased my fear.

"I'll take my chances. I don't want to be without you," she said to me. She was so shy that she couldn't look me in the eye for long after saying those words. She put her head on my shoulder and kissed my neck, sending a pulse of electricity down my spine. I cradled her on my lap, and she fell asleep in my arms, trusting as ever.

Now I was at a quandary. Should I put her in bed and leave her alone, go home? Or should I stay here? Or should I put her to bed and stay there with her? She had one arm over my shoulder, her free hand on my chest. I watched that hand for a long time. She would flex it, even while dreaming, grabbing my shirt and letting go. I didn't take it as a sign, but as an expectation. She would be expecting to see me when she woke up. I took her to her bed, laying her down gently. She did not stir. I put the covers over her, and got under them myself. I kept a bit of distance, just in case, and fell asleep quickly smelling her perfume and hearing her soft breathing.

I woke up and blinked, trying to get my bearings. The room was too dark, so it wasn't morning, but I was aware that this was Sookie's bedroom, and not mine. I was startled by her voice.

"No! No, please," she was saying the words loud, in fear. I quickly sat up in bed to see what was wrong. In the dim light cast by her bedside clock, I could tell her eyes were still closed. She was having another one of her nightmares. I smoothed her hair, trying to calm her.

"I'm here, Sookie. You're alright, love," I said soothingly, trying to bring her out of the nightmare as softly as possible. Something was off. She cringed from my touch, and even her arms flailed to cover her face. I tried once more to calm her and she started crying. I pulled her to me, hugged her to me, and she woke up with a start. She started to pull away from me, but I knew this was left over from the dream. So I held her tight. She cried into my shirt, her sobs muffled by the fabric.

I couldn't quite figure out what had made her have that particular dream. She was obviously afraid of something. The nightmares I'd had revolved around seeing my wife's lifeless body, and my feelings of helplessness. Sookie's nightmare seemed like somebody had attacked her and she was reliving it. But who had tried to hurt this beautiful person in my arms? She even apologized for having had a nightmare! I watched her fall asleep, just to make sure she had, and only then did I fall asleep myself.

The next morning I woke up alone in her bed. I started to get up to go look for her when I realized that she was in the bathroom. I heard her murmur something to her cat Buddy, who must have hidden there during the night. I waited for her, almost impatient. After all, it was a new day. Things tended to change in the light of a new day.

Sure enough, after returning my smile she became extra shy again. She looked embarrassed again, probably a result of the nightmare. I made her wait for me while I used her bathroom, and when I returned she looked like a little kid who had done something bad. She was even dangling her legs, moving them this way and that, nervous. I approached her and made her look at me. Her eyes were full of chagrin… why? The only surefire way to make her smile again was to smile myself, so I did. I heard her catch her breath before her face lit up with one of her own smiles. My heart couldn't contain itself when faced with such beauty. I took her hand and put it to my chest. Maybe the knowledge that I was just as nervous as her would make her feel a little better. Sookie's eyes widened as she felt my heart beating wildly for her. But I did not want to take anything for granted, so I asked her permission before kissing her.

What I did not anticipate was her reaction to my kiss. I tried to kiss her softly, but then felt her fingers wind once more in my hair, and her hot breath come in gasps on my lips. I pushed her far into the bed and pressed my whole body against hers. She did not try to stop me, on the contrary. Her fingers were no longer in my hair: they were undoing the buttons of my shirt. The feel of her hands on my bare skin sent desire pulsing through me. I took off my shirt and helped her with hers. Her soft skin was inviting and delicious. Her breasts formed gentle slopes on her chest. I kissed her everywhere: the indentation formed by her clavicle, the valley between her breasts, the slow rise that formed them, her shoulders, her neck, her throat.

Sookie was gasping for air when I laid my head on her chest, listening to her heart. Her legs were wrapped around me: she was not going to let me go. I rejoiced in this new feeling of wanting the person who wanted me, not just the body. The body was a means to a way. Having sex was the means. Making love was the way. I tugged at her bra to expose her full right breast. She had the color of peaches and honey, lovely and scrumptious and beautiful.

I kissed her more and more, realizing that I needed to hear her tell me it was alright. She would let me take her, of that I was sure. But I felt better giving her a chance to say no, even though I hoped with all my might that she'd say yes.

"I'm trying very hard not to take advantage of you. Please tell me to stop and I will," I whispered in her ear. I would abide by her wishes, I promised myself, whatever they happened to be. She said she wanted me too. My heart soared, my desire strengthened, and I was inside her without knowing exactly how. All I knew was why: because I was in love with her; because I loved her. Having her pinned under my body just would not do. I rolled so I could look at her, so I could touch her. I ran my hands over every inch of her body. I could not take my eyes off her, and I found that she was looking at me the same way. She traced the lines on my chest, on my arms, my belly. She reached up to touch my face, my neck, then reached behind her to run her hands over my legs. Every caress would send sparks flying from my skin.

Her body reacted to my touch again, like it had the night before. Not only did she begin to almost sing with her own voice, her body began to sing as well. It was a harmony, a chorus, all for me. I sat up and she leaned back. I ran my fingers over her body, from her neck to her thighs, like I was playing an instrument. Sookie closed her eyes and pleasure burst out of her with a soft cry. I couldn't contain myself anymore either. I rolled back and pinned her under me, spilling inside her, barely aware of anything else but her scent.

We held each other for a long time. She rested her head on my shoulder, her left hand sprawled over my stomach. All I could do was marvel at the fact that we had made love, and that it had turned into the most beautiful experience I'd ever had with another person. Sookie must have been made for me, and I for her. What else would explain what had just happened? How we had connected so easily and thoroughly? I marveled at that as well.

"You are mine," I said to her. I wasn't claiming her, exactly. I was just making a statement of a known fact.

"And you are mine," she said to me, and proceeded to close whatever little gaps there had been between her body and mine.

"Yes, darling, of course I am. You have totally and thoroughly made me fall in love with you," I said to her. I heard her breathing stop suddenly, like my being in love with her was news to her.

"You must know that," I said, looking at her surprised face. "From the very first time I saw you, the minute you growled at your garden… And then when I saw you coming out of your house in the wee hours while I was swimming," God! How I had wanted her to join me! But she was so shy, she ran away. I told her all the ways in which she had made me fall in love, and they sounded selfish. Of course, she knew exactly what to say to make me feel better. But I forgot it all in the wake of what she said next.

"I'm in love with you too," and she meant it. Her eyes smoldered as the words left her lips. My joy was overwhelming. It would be physically painful to be separated from her now.

**TBC… Sigh…**


	11. YoursMineOurs

**A/N: **This is the second part of Eric's POV. Just like last time, it follows the timeline we already know.

Thank you all SO much for your reviews. I see from them that hearing from Eric is very enjoyable, and I don't blame you. I really like writing what he thinks, and he's so sweet… sigh…

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**Chapter 11 - Yours-Mine-Ours**

How did people do it? How did they go on about their lives for one minute without feeling the need to be beside their beloved? I guessed the answer because I knew it, and had experienced it myself. I hadn't loved my wife like this. This love I felt for Sookie was overpowering. I thought about why this would be so. Sookie was beautiful, but my wife had been beautiful too. Sookie was shy and soft-spoken, but funny. My wife had been outgoing and sometimes moody.

What was I doing? I was comparing Sookie to a dead person. No, worse than that… I was wishing my dead wife had been more like Sookie: more compassionate, more understanding, so that she could have foreseen what she did to me when she cheated on me.

Sookie's stare cut into my reverie. I tried to make a joke of my clothes, the same ones as the day before, so she wouldn't have a chance to interpret the look on my face. I was relieved when she explained that she had simply been staring, and that I had caught her in the act. Her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. She had been looking at my body, admiring it, the same way I did with hers. I was a bit used to that, having a whole legion of fans fantasizing about the characters I portrayed. But coming from her, it was more than flattering.

We went to the kitchen and I took over. I felt again the need to take care of her, so I started breakfast. I saw her hands flutter in an attempt to stop me, but she stopped herself and let me do as I wished. It was something so simple: breakfast. But she seemed to sense it meant much more to me than my preparing a simple meal.

Before we made up our minds about what to do for the rest of our day ("ours" because I wasn't willing to spend the day without her), we took a shower together. This time her appeal to me was purely physical. She had let me take off her clothes, and she had taken mine off. She pulled me to the shower and bathed me, running her soapy hands all over me. I did the same for her, trying with all my might to contain myself and finish bathing before I took her again. There was no question that I wouldn't make it to the bed. I had to have her.

She held on to my neck and wrapped her legs around me. Her obvious understanding of what I wanted assured me that she wanted it too. Once inside her the need turned into something else. It was raw desire, and she fueled it. She bit my shoulder, and moaned, and kissed me wildly. The sensations overtook her and she burst again in my arms, and this time she took me with her. It was all amazingly sexy. It added a new dimension to my feelings for her. Sookie had become an unexpected force. And she was barely aware of what she did. She even became dismissive when I pointed out how sexy she really was.

I watched her get dressed and put perfume on her skin. I moved closer and noticed she was running a little low. As I smelled the spot on her neck where she had just applied perfume, I was struck with inspiration.

"When is your birthday?" I asked, and then I realized that I didn't know her age either.

"A month from today, July 12," she said frowning. I was wondering if she felt awkward because she was older than me, though she looked clearly several years younger.

"And you will be…?" I pressed.

"Twenty seven. Why?" she asked. I didn't like her frown. She was two years younger than me, so the source of her awkwardness was something else.

"I just wanted to know. It will be a good excuse to shower you with presents," still the frown on her face, this time even more pronounced. She looked almost mad. "What's wrong, darling? You don't want presents?" I asked. I was completely baffled by her response.

"I love presents," she said, trying to imitate my accent. I smiled. "But you can shower me with presents and I would never be able to reciprocate," she said. My smile faded. What in the world was she thinking? Why would I ever want her to give me anything? She had already given me everything. How could I phrase my position? She was not used to taking things, only to giving, so I had to explain it just right.

"My love… I am extremely lucky that I get to do what I love and I get paid offensive amounts of money to do it. Why wouldn't I share that with you? Do you think I can take it with me? So you will be good and accept everything I buy you, and you will kiss me passionately when you receive it," I said. I saw resignation and acceptance color her expression, and when I smiled, she smiled back. I knew she wouldn't be able to resist my argument: I was sharing, and I was expecting something in return. I knew she could see through me, but I also knew she would want to make me happy. She just didn't quite understand yet how she had lit up my world ever since she entered it. I had been living in a thick fog, and Sookie was the soft breeze that had dispersed it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I sat next to Sookie inside a beautiful yellow Mustang. The salesman had lingered nearby, but had otherwise left us to our own devices. Her face lit up when she spied it right outside the showroom, and she had practically run to take a look.

"It looks like my mom's car, but a couple of years newer," she said to me by way of explanation. I was making a mental list of things she liked, starting with her perfume. This car was second on the list. She was sitting in the driver's seat, fiddling with the main console.

"Six CD changer and satellite radio..." she mumbled to herself, clearly admiring.

"Do you want it?" I asked, eyeing her carefully for the reaction I knew would come. She frowned, but took a deep breath before looking at me.

"No. I don't like this car, so don't get any ideas to buy it for me," she said, looking into my eyes. I'd never seen someone lying so hard. She got out of the Mustang quickly and went on to admire other cars and trucks, but I could tell her heart wasn't in these cars. She was very complimentary of the truck I selected, so I bought it.

During dinner she noticed that I was eating quite a lot. She'd had to ask the waitress to wrap half of her meal, and I had eaten all of mine, plus rolls, plus soup, and now I was half done with a giant piece of cake. She had been staring at me eating, probably amazed that I was still able to eat. Sookie didn't understand that she was the one making me hungry.

"You eat a lot. Are you pregnant?" she teased me. I started smiling at her teasing, and then something clicked in my head. I had been absolutely horrible to her! I hadn't been with anyone for so long that I hadn't even considered the possibility that I might need protection. Then the feelings I felt for her had been so overwhelming, that we had already made love twice before I remembered about using protection to begin with. Sookie could be pregnant right now, for all we knew… It took me only half a second to picture our future if that were the case. It was brilliant and exciting, my ultimate goal: my wife Sookie, our babies… Our family.

"Not me, but you could be," I said to her. I wasn't sure if she would be upset about the prospect or hopeful like me. She leaned over the table, to whisper to me.

"Eric, I'm on the pill. I can't get pregnant," she said. My little family faded, replaced by something fierce and irrational: jealousy.

I followed her to her house so we could drop off her car. Alone, I could talk myself into understanding why now would be a very bad time for us to even think about a family. We'd known each other less than a week, for one. Then, even though I had warned her about how crazy my public life could be (and she had chosen to ignore it for now), she couldn't know what effect my life would have on her. She could decide to leave me, and that would be her right. But I still couldn't shake the jealousy. Why was she taking the pill a year after her husband died? My mind could only come up with one reason: I wasn't the only one in her life.

She hopped into the new truck and we started driving out to the beach. I didn't want to upset her with my wild imaginings, so we drove in silence. Her hand in mine was the only thing that was keeping me from losing it completely. I should have known she would intuit that something was eating at me.

"What's wrong?" she asked in her soft voice. Her touch on my cheek was just as soft. I couldn't help but respond.

"I hope you don't take this question the wrong way, but I can't seem to let it go," I started, then took a deep breath and asked "Why are you still taking the pill?" I didn't want to make it sound like an accusation, though to me it did feel that way. I looked at her expression. Once again, I should have known that she wouldn't get defensive, like I had just been expecting. There was only concern for me.

"I've been taking it for so many years, it's become routine. I spoke to my doctor and he saw nothing wrong. Eric, my love… the last person I was with was my husband before you, and even that was quite a while before his death," she answered. I felt better at once, knowing her incapable of lying to me, not about that. But it was what she said about her husband that had me uneasy now. That was the second time she had hinted at the fact that she hadn't been close to her husband before his death. She was trying to tell me something, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what. I decided to let it go and approach her another day. One bad thing at a time. First I had to apologize.

"Oh… Please forgive me. I guess I was being stupidly jealous, huh?" I said and kissed her hand. She smiled, and it was kind.

"Not stupidly, but yes: a bit jealous. It's okay. I understand. You just need to ask me right away next time. I'll tell you whatever you want to know. There's no need to suffer over a question like that. I hated seeing you like that," she said, letting go of my hand so she could touch my face. My balm. The relief was instant.

"I will next time, I promise." Then realization hit me. "You care for me, don't you?" I asked her. She told me she loved me, but I finally realized that everything I had seen of her, the way she was with me, was her way of showing me how much she cared for me. Even her hand on my cheek.

"Of course I do," she answered me immediately. "I'm in love with you. I thought I'd made that clear," she said. Yes, she had indeed made it clear. After all, she had chosen me. I was the dunce who had not caught on to realize that her actions spoke loud and echoed above her words. I parked the truck at the beach parking lot and reached for her at the same time that she reached for me. We kissed, softly, enjoying just that simple act that declared us "us."

We walked on the beach holding hands. But I wanted to hear her voice, make her talk, draw her out. I imagined her to be a little pretty turtle, needing to feel safe before coming out of her shell.

She steered the conversation towards me, and I tried my best to keep it short. I already knew my story. I wanted to hear hers. But as usual, I gave her whatever she wanted.

The sun got lower in the sky as we talked, and some ominous clouds started making their way in from the south. She didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were searching my face with a worried expression. She reached up and took my sunglasses off, and her expression softened at once. I couldn't help but notice the way she put my sunglasses on her shirt, and how they pulled the shirt down ever so slightly to reveal a little more of her chest. She held my gaze: this is what she had wanted, to see me. She leaned into me and I met her halfway. We kissed softly, thoughtfully, but it didn't matter. It made me think of how much I needed her.

Something that happened as we got in the truck made me take notice of something odd in her makeup. She was brushing sand off her feet before getting in the truck, wanting to keep it clean. I told her to forget it… like I cared about sand! I cared more about her. She seemed to think I was mad at her for taking a few extra seconds to brush the sand off. Something in my tone had put her on guard. I couldn't understand it. She even apologized. I had never been cross with her, so why in the world would she think I was mad now? I tried to allay her fears by closing the gap between us, and held her hand tight as I drove home, kissing it over and over. I felt her relax eventually. I was able to diffuse whatever fear she'd had by the time we arrived at my house.

We ran under the rain to my front door and I quickly got us inside. I threw her over my shoulder, meaning to be playful, and it worked. She giggled as I carried her to my bedroom. I set her down carefully and started peeling off my wet clothes. She watched for half a second before she started doing the same.

Sookie stood up suddenly, but took my hand and ever so gently made me lie down on the bed. She crawled beside me and showed me the true meaning of making love to another person. Her soft touch, her kisses, everything she did to me made me feel wanted and loved. But then she tugged at one of my nipples with her teeth, and I lost the little control I was trying to maintain. I laid her on the bed and pinned her under me. She wrapped her legs around me, letting me take her. But this felt too rough, too detached.

"I want you to look at me. Don't close your eyes," I said. She opened her eyes surprised. She probably hadn't realized they were closed. I held her eyes with mine, her pleasure mirroring mine. At that moment we were one. I finally understood what that meant, how it felt, and who I couldn't live without. She burst under me, yelling my name and holding me closer. The same feeling made me curl into her, whisper her name and I spilled into her, my soul transferred.

I couldn't move away from Sookie's embrace, even if I had wanted to (and I certainly didn't want to move away). I kissed the side of her jaw, and she turned her head to kiss me. I felt overwhelmed with love for her, and our kiss turned into the sweetest… words failed. I felt her tears on my cheeks, and immediately realized that I must be too heavy for her.

"Oh, darling! Am I hurting you?" I asked her, moving off her finally. How stupid of me. She was so much smaller, much more fragile than me.

"No. I don't know what's wrong with me now. I think… Oh, Eric… I've never felt anything like that before," she said, wiping her tears with the heel of her hand. I understood what she meant, because I'd grown to know her so well. I felt like flying, she felt like crying, overwhelmed as we both were. I chuckled a little and drew her closer.

"Sweetheart… my darling, my love. Maybe you haven't been loved like I love you," I said to her. She sighed, calming down with my touch. We held each other for a long time, and then I started feeling that strange hunger again. I welcomed it now. It was a happy feeling. I looked at her, and her eyes were closed. I wondered if she was asleep.

"Are you hungry?" I whispered. It wouldn't wake her up if she was asleep. But her answering smile told me she had been awake.

"No, I'm good. Are you?" she asked. Her eyes flashed open with sudden concern. This wasn't even her house, and she was about to get up and feed me. I stroked her hair to calm her.

"A little. I'll be right back," I said. I tucked her under the covers, nice and tight so she couldn't escape, and was gone and back in record time. She looked up at me sleepily, smiled, and closed her eyes again. I felt a little guilty because I wasn't sleepy at all.

"Will it bother you if I turn on the TV?" I asked. I wasn't sure what I was expecting. She would never admit that it bothered her, so I had to pay attention to her expression in the dim light. But her expression was serene, only one of her eyes opened.

"Not at all. I may fall asleep, tough," she said. One of her hands moved to rest on my thigh.

"Sleep, sweetheart. You had a bad night, you need to rest," I said. I caressed her hair softly, watching her drift swiftly to sleep. Her breathing became deep and even within a few seconds.

I looked at Sookie. She was so trusting that she fell asleep right away, in a strange bed, just because I was here next to her. I thought about the way we had made love. I'd never felt anything like that either. Of course, the answer that I'd given her applied to me as well: nobody had loved me like she did. Even now, asleep, she was still showing me her love. She had made sure to put her hand on my thigh, so it would remain there while she slept.

I felt mad suddenly. My wife had never done something that even resembled Sookie's simple gesture. She had felt entitled to the love I'd given her. She hadn't earned it, not really. We had found each other during a hectic period in our lives, and we had become something different to think about, an outlet. Even the sex we had didn't feel like love, not now that I knew better. I remembered the day I came back home and Carrie wasn't there. I had been gone for a month filming a movie in Canada, and she had left me a note. A note! I hadn't had any other type of clue that she wasn't happy with me, or with our life. The note didn't say that she had left with someone else, only that she had left. All the phone calls during my month away, all our conversations and emails, they had all been normal.

"You can't come here. This isn't my place," Carrie said to me when she finally answered my calls after I'd returned. I wanted to see her. I went through the names of her friends, and she denied every one.

"This is not one of my friend's house. This is my boyfriend's house, Eric. I was hoping you'd understand," she said. I didn't know what was there to understand. Her last email to me was just another complaint: she felt lonely. But she always said that.

I sighed remembering what it had taken to make Carrie come back home. It took me to threaten her with her own prenuptial agreement for her to move back in. I hated doing that. She obviously didn't want to be with me anymore, but I had to try. I didn't want to be alone either. That loneliness had been so overwhelming, even now.

Sookie said something in her sleep, but I didn't catch it. At least she didn't look troubled, and that was a relief. She actually looked quite peaceful, very different from the night before. It felt safe to leave her alone while I settled my thoughts the best way I knew how. I left her side silently, barely jostling her, and closed the bedroom door softly behind me. Hopefully I wouldn't wake her.

I hadn't played the piano in several months, perhaps over a year. I hadn't seen the need, not even to please myself. The sudden urge probably had a little to do with not being able to let go of the past. I had tried my best to forgive Carrie. I had even suggested going to our favorite ski resort. She had accepted grudgingly, and had gone skiing mostly on her own for the few days we were there. As I played a sonata, I decided to think of happier times. Wherever she was, Carrie needed to know that I forgave her, and that I wanted her forgiveness in return. Now that she was gone, it wasn't fair to hold on to any grudges. I felt guilty that I had compared her to Sookie. It wasn't fair to either one of them: to Carrie because she would never be able to change. To Sookie because Carrie should have been put to rest in my thoughts.

"Eric?" Sookie's soft voice called out to me from the darkness. I felt ashamed of the thoughts I'd been having, of the tears I'd just spilled. But here was Sookie, my balm and comfort, her eyes full of worry. I was lost and she had found me.

I explained to her everything I'd been thinking tonight. There was no sense in hiding it. I didn't want any secrets between us. Maybe if I opened up, she would open up too. I warned her that she might think less of me. I should have known better than to worry. After I told her everything, she knew exactly what to say to make me feel better. But it wasn't only that: she listened without judgment.

After she had said the words that made me feel better, she reached up to run her fingers through my hair. The feeling of her touch calmed me down further. I moved the past back to where it belonged, and focused on the present.

"You always know what to say to make me feel better," I said to her. She had to know that by now, but it felt good to tell her. I saw her shaking her head slowly, like she didn't believe me.

"You mostly leave me speechless," she said. I smiled. Of course I knew that about her: she was shy. I examined her face: her pretty lips reacted to my smile with one of their own, her eyes searching mine.

"For someone who is mostly speechless you certainly are very insightful," I told her. I kissed her, and suddenly had an inspiration. I could make her sing, couldn't I? I wondered if she knew the song I would play for her now.

Sookie didn't disappoint. The moment she recognized the tune her expression went from chagrin to acceptance: she understood what I was up to, and decided she didn't care. She started singing the song softly, and closed her eyes. As her voice warmed up, she gathered courage and sang louder, hitting each note perfectly with her clear strong voice. She was such a shy person, that she was shy about everything, even something that she did so well. When she opened her eyes, she noticed my involuntary smile, and finished the song the right way, at full volume, and beautiful. I hugged her to me and knew I would never, ever, let her go.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next day we headed to the beach on my sailboat, with Charlie and Donnie as my guests. None of the members of the Stackhouse family were used to the silence of a sailboat, and we fell easily into conversation. They took me to a beautiful secluded island near the mouth of the Gulf. I made a mental note: one of these days (soon) I would bring Sookie here to spend the day by ourselves.

Sookie stopped me suddenly when I tried to make my way to the water. She turned me around and smeared cold sunscreen on my back and chest. I'd never worried before, or had anybody worry for me. I realized what she was doing as she did it, so I returned the favor. It was part of keeping each other safe.

We raced to the beach and she almost won. She almost beat me fair and square. I should have been used to being fascinated by her on a daily basis, yet she still surprised me. I lied back on the sand to catch my breath, and we fell into an easy conversation… Easy until something she said about her family made her want to cry. I heard it in her voice. I knew this was the moment to ask her what had happened when her husband died; what was she keeping from me? I sat up to look at her, to hold her hand, to will her to trust me with this last secret: to share her burden so it would stop eating her alive.

"I've noticed you say things but you edit yourself, like there's something you're not telling me. I sometimes wonder if you've even told your parents. They know you lost your husband, but do they know why you feel so guilty, the real reason?" I asked, keeping my voice soft. Her eyes widened, almost in fear. I leaned into her, to make sure her parents wouldn't hear us.

"Sookie… how can I help you if you won't speak? Now you know I love you, that I've told you my own private pain. You know how thankful I am that you not only understood, but offered a new perspective. Why can't you let me in too?" I asked her. I wanted so badly to return the favor, to comfort her like she comforted me. I waited silently while she calmed herself. My words had upset her, but not because of me. She continued to look at me, gathering her thoughts.

"I'll tell you everything, but let's go in the water," she said finally. She pulled me to a far end of the beach, and then we walked into the water. When the water reached my shoulders she turned to me, wrapped her legs around my waist and her arms around my shoulders. It seemed like a very intimate embrace, and no one who saw us would come near us. Her face told me that the bad stuff was coming. The guilt was plain, as was her pain.

She told me her history. When she explained how her relationship with her husband had deteriorated, how he had become emotionally abusive, it was as if I'd been hit in my gut by a boulder. She couldn't even look at me while she told me this. It was as if _she_ was ashamed for his deeds. She started trembling in my arms when the story turned to the end. I held her close trying to help her stop shaking so bad.

And then I understood the reason: her husband had cheated on her. The betrayal had hit her about as bad as I expected. Sookie wasn't the type of person who could take a betrayal of that kind. She could have never fathomed it, let alone forgiven or forgotten it. Then she did something that I'm sure her husband had never seen her do: she confronted him. She had been so hurt (she had used the word livid) by what he'd done, she couldn't even imagine the type of violence this would elicit. When she told me her husband had punched her in the face, I could only close my eyes and see red. If he had been alive I would have punched him myself, no matter the consequences. When I opened my eyes her hand was on the side of her face where she had been hurt. I touched her hand gently, wanting to touch the same spot. She couldn't look at me. She continued her story to its final inevitable end. She'd been the only one allowed to make decisions over his life, and she'd had to put aside whatever she was feeling for him and make the right decision for the human being… as opposed to what the monster had deserved.

It explained so much: her hesitance, her quick assumptions when she thought I was mad, her unwillingness to even sing. It even explained why she started to pull away from me when she had finished her story. She saw me mad, and thought it was directed at her. I quickly regained control of my rage and pulled her back to me, soothing her with my voice and my touch. Only if she had been less compassionate, less caring, she would not have felt so guilty about not being able to mourn the loss of someone who had hurt her.

I offered her my comfort, and finally saw the Sookie I had glimpsed once in a while. The pressure of the guilt had lifted when she finally opened up to me. I saw her blossom right before my eyes. I stared at this person, so beautiful once her soul wasn't in hiding, and I admit that I fell for her again. I captured her lips with mine, crushed her warm body against mine, not wanting to let go, and not caring that her parents could see us. I was a man in love with the woman in my arms, and everyone needed to know it.

**TBC**


	12. Headlines

**A/N:** Thank you all for your kind reviews, and for liking this story so much. As always, I am humbled and in awe that so many like this story.

We're back to Sookie's POV for a little bit.

* * *

**Chapter 12 - Headlines**

JFK Airport was a madhouse. I was expecting that. What I hadn't expected was the entourage that escorted us through the throng of reporters waiting for us. This area of the airport was reserved for high profile people: anybody famous would be escorted through here directly to waiting cars. No need to wait for luggage. _Isn't that convenient?_, I thought to myself, a little dark humor filtering into my bad mood. I was trying my darnedest to not be moody at all, but at this particular minute I was not in the mood to enjoy myself. I had been made to wear clothes that weren't mine. Dozens of outfits had been sent to my house at Nancy's – Eric's manager – request, with a list of when and where to wear each single one. Nothing was designer label, for which I was thankful. But nothing was my style either. There were a lot of dressy pants and button down shirts. They were trying to make me look like I was about to go to work in an office. Eric had been dressed similarly, so the intent was clear enough to me. I still didn't like it.

Eric walked me through the worst of it, trying to use his body to shield me a little bit from the flashing light bulbs. I wondered idly where I could watch myself tomorrow: Entertainment Tonight? Extra? E! I would have plenty of time to rifle through the channels and find our picture and our story later.

We got outside and were directed to a waiting black sedan. Our bodyguard, Alcide, who had been with us since leaving Puerto Rico, sat in the front seat after making sure we were inside the car and strapped in our seats. He took his job seriously, but he was a jovial kind of guy. He could look very intimidating if he wanted to: 6 feet 7 inches of bulky muscle. But he always wore shirts with Hawaiian prints. He said it would be impossible for us to lose sight of him in an emergency… and of course he was right: the vastness of the shirt, plus its pretty colors, who could miss that? I found myself memorizing the pattern of the day. Today it was white hibiscus on a blue background.

Eric sat in silence, reading an agenda that had just been handed to him by one of the people in our entourage. They were part of the marketing team of the movie, and they had stayed at the airport to coordinate the other actors' arrivals. I looked out the window, but there wasn't much to see as we made our way out of the airport and into the city. Eric didn't let go of my hand for one moment, not even to turn the pages of what he was reading.

I caught a glimpse of the New York skyline as we crossed a bridge. It wasn't the first time I'd seen it in person, but it was still filled with wonder. I really did enjoy New York City. My mom and I had made day trips when I was a teenager. She always believed I should experience a big city like that, to round out my character. We had caught several matinees on Broadway. We had gone shopping at Macy's. I had been up to the Empire State Building. The sight that filled me with the most sadness was the one that was missing: the two towers of the World Trade Center. I had visited Tower II, when it was a tourist spot, and had taken pictures of the city from it. Now it was just empty space… so many people lost that day, not just there. I took a deep breath that shook in my lungs, and saw Eric look up from the corner of my eye. I just kept staring at the empty spot in the sky, paying my respects in a way. Eric looked in the same direction, and didn't look away either, until we were no longer able to see it at all.

It was the middle of a July day inside the city. The streets were heavy with humanity. As always I marveled at the sights: a little café here, a nice restaurant there, a boutique, a big department store, a skyscraper. Things seemed to get really big as we approached our hotel. I wondered how high we would be in our room, how much of the skyline I would be able to see at night from our window.

I was too engrossed in my little musings to realize that we had stopped. I gasped as I finally looked up. Eric squeezed my hand and shook it gently, just a friendly touch reminding me that he was there. But it wasn't his presence or absence what had made me gasp. The Plaza Hotel was looming above us, as Alcide pulled my door open. I had seen this hotel in movies, I had seen it in person, but I would have never dreamt of staying here. Who could afford it? Oh, right! Movie houses. Duh. I let go of Eric's hand to take Alcide's as he helped me out of the car. I was his main concern, after all. Eric walked around the car and met us as we were making our way up the steps. I tried to keep my expression even, but it was hard.

"Hello, I'm Eve. Mr. Northman, if you would follow me," Eve said. Since Eric followed her willingly, I could only guess she was with marketing too. She wore the same type of clothes that I did, except she was much taller, plus wearing heels. She was very slim, with long black hair and a pretty face, but her expression was all business. She barely shot a glance at Alcide or me as we walked next to Eric. Eve led us through the lobby, her heels making a racket on the marble floor, to a bank of elevators. The elevator was just as ornate as everything else, with gilded mirrors all around. We arrived at the 19th floor and she led us down a long hallway with a plush carpet, which absorbed the sound of our footsteps thoroughly. Eve handed a set of card keys to Eric, two of them. She had the third, and she used it to open the door to what would be our room (a suite), then handed the third card to Eric as well.

"Your luggage will be here momentarily. I will come back at three for the briefing. Lunch was already ordered and will be here in fifteen minutes," Eve said. This time she forced herself to smile. She actually looked exhausted. "Have a good afternoon," she said, then turned before Eric could say "you too." He tried. I guessed she wasn't used to pleasant famous people.

"This must be your room, Alcide," said Eric, peeking at the bedroom closest to the main door of the suite.

I didn't follow either of them. I was lost in the unbearable luxury of the place. Did people really live like this _all_ the time? I didn't dare touch anything! I made a bee line for the window, crossing through a dining room with a marble-topped table, and ending up in a living room with expensive-looking white couches. I eyed them fearfully. With my propensity to spill things, I was sure to leave them a different shade. And finally the windows, which were lined in turn by some gauzy white sheers, and heavy deep burgundy drapes. I looked out to see Central Park in the near distance. That was nice and unexpected. I could see the hustling and bustling of the streets below, but thankfully I couldn't hear it.

I didn't hear Eric's approach either. His soft touch on my waist made me jump a little when he startled me. We had barely spoken all day.

"What's out there?" he asked me, looking out the window as well.

"Central Park. I haven't been to New York in a very long time, so I don't remember exactly where we are," I answered shrugging. What I had meant to say was that I didn't know much about what was around the hotel where I could go while he was working. I knew the Metropolitan Museum of Art was nestled against Central Park, and that would be a relatively safe place to go, but I didn't know where it was exactly from here. I was going to have to look it up. Alcide was going to have to take in some culture.

"I'm sure we can call the concierge and find out what's there to do that's nearby," Eric answered my unspoken thought.

He was looking down at me, his arm still around my waist. I could feel his eyes on me, but I just kept looking out the window. I felt very nervous being here. Eric would be talking to reporters, which meant that reporters would be nearby. I also didn't know what Eric's reaction would be if the reporters veered in their questions and started asking him about me. He had not calmed down about our predicament, I could tell, even though he tried to act calm for me. He may have been a good actor, but he couldn't pretend good enough for me. I could see right through.

I felt him lifting my chin now, and I finally looked at him. His expression was, for once, tranquil. He bent to kiss me. I kissed him back fervently. We hadn't kissed properly since the night before; the quick peck in the morning didn't count for me. I pulled away remembering Alcide.

"He's in his room, calling his wife," Eric said when he saw me search the room. I loved Eric, but I didn't like to make out in front of our bodyguard. _My bodyguard_, I corrected and sighed.

"Come, let's see our room," Eric said taking my hand.

Our bedroom was exquisite: king size four-poster bed, huge (white again!) down comforter, a couple of chairs that matched the bed. In the left corner a set of French doors led to (what I supposed was) the bathroom. To the right another bank of windows. I walked carefully. The plush carpet made it impossible to not wobble a little.

"About that kiss…?" Eric had turned to me while I was scanning the room. He had even closed the door to the bedroom. It was very difficult to feel anxious when he looked at me the way he was looking at me now. I was chocolate pudding again, mesmerized and in love. His happiness was my only raison d'être. I could put up with anything, as long as he was happy. His smile confirmed my best hopes, and when his lips touched mine my heart soared again. I wrapped my arms around his neck.

Our lunch appeared (finally!) and Alcide and I dug in. We were starving! He was easy company, very chatty, which suited me fine since I always liked to listen to people. Eric pushed his food around his plate absentmindedly, which was unusual for him. I wondered how much stress he was under, while Alcide and I talked about his little girl.

"She's a beauty," I said, admiring a photo of hers that he had on his cell phone. The little smiley-faced girl was close to three years old, with big cheeks, huge brown eyes, and short dark brown hair. "What's her name?"

"Isabel. She's a funny one, that one. She was offering crackers to a spider, for the spider to eat them," said Alcide, looking tenderly at his daughter's picture.

"I'm sorry you had to be away from her for this," I said, gesturing at nothing at all.

"Oh, no, no no! This is my job. Once I get you home safely, I can go back home myself. You do know I get paid for this, right?" he said, gesturing in the same way I had, teasing me.

"Fair enough. Do you think we can go somewhere tomorrow?" I asked Alcide, but Eric was the one who now looked up.

"Where are you going?" asked Eric. His expression was a mix of fear and ire. I couldn't understand it.

"Um…" I hesitated then decided to just tell him what I was hoping to do and see what his reaction would be. "I was hoping to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I figured that would be a safe place, with all the guards…" my voice trailed off as his eyes got bigger.

"Eric, she'll be fine. I can get a car and take her. It's only a few blocks up. If we leave early nobody will see her," said Alcide. He had also noticed Eric's worried expression, which he rearranged with a little effort before looking at me.

"Alright," he said, and tried to smile.

After lunch I said I needed a nap (it could have been true), so I could make Eric follow me to our bedroom and we could be alone.

"What's wrong, honey?" I asked him after we had both plopped on the soft bed.

"What do you mean?" he answered with another question.

"You barely ate," I said. I knew he didn't think I was that dense that I wouldn't have noticed.

"I'm just a little nervous. They're starting some of the interviews today, so I was going through some of the answers in my head," he said, playing with a lock of my hair. Now I understood better why he hadn't wanted me here in the beginning. These were going to be some very difficult days for him. He had been trying to spare me. I put my hand on his chest, feeling his heart sputter at my touch.

"You'll be brilliant," I said, using his vocabulary. I had developed such quirks lately.

Eric enveloped me in his arms, and I fell asleep in two blinks. When I woke up he wasn't in bed, and I could hear muffled voices coming from the living room. The door to the bedroom was ajar, which would explain how I could hear anything at all. I was sure he had left it that way on purpose. I struggled to make out the conversation, but there was no way. The stupid plushy carpets muffled sound too well to eavesdrop properly. I was going to take advantage of that and hide behind the door. They wouldn't hear me walking around the bedroom.

As I neared the door, I could finally make out the conversation. Eve was giving Eric a rundown of the people he would meet tomorrow.

"Are there any questions that are off limits? Your manager gave us some preliminary ones. Would you like to add any?" asked Eve, I heard pages shuffling.

"I think she only sent you the ones I had set up a couple of years ago. Add any questions regarding my girlfriend," Eric answered in a deep voice. The stress that he was feeling was plain as paper.

"They'll ask anyway, you know?" said Eve. It wasn't really a question, but Eric answered anyway.

"I know, but once they've been forewarned, it won't be rude if I refuse to answer," Eric said, his voice still deep. I got a sudden urge to go there and hug him. I wouldn't know what to say, but I just wanted him to know it was all okay.

"Will she be coming to the screening tonight?" asked Eve. I froze. I didn't know about anything about a screening.

"I think they can control themselves for one night. They won't bother us," he answered. There was a pause and he added, "Have some outfits sent up for her, please. I forgot to ask her to pack something appropriate," he said, then gave Eve my dress and shoe size. I was taken aback that he could remember my sizes so easily, and a little hurt that he had forgotten to tell me about the screening. I calmed myself down, thinking that poor Eric already had enough to think about to worry about my clothes on top of everything else.

I heard Eve make the phone call that would send my clothes up to our room, so I decided to take advantage of the break in their conversation to come out of the bedroom and join them. I saw that Alcide was at the dining room table, fiddling with his laptop. Eve was sitting on the edge of an armchair, looking very much in control of everything. Eric was sitting all the way back on the couch, his eyes closed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. I walked to him, waving politely at Eve since she was in the middle of a phone conversation. She shot me a quick smile and continued her conversation.

I sat next to Eric and my presence startled him. He was so wound up.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. He gave me a rueful smile and closed his eyes again when I took over the rubbing of his temples. He turned around in his seat, and I knelt behind him. I rubbed his temples and his whole head, trying (probably in vain) to draw the tension out. He tilted his head back and rested on my chest.

"Okay, that's all set up," said Eve from her chair. "On Friday," she continued, "you will be doing a few shows. We have two in the morning and two in the afternoon. Saturday the photographers will arrive and we'll have several photo sessions before your departure. It should be pretty straightforward," she said, handing Eric a packet of papers.

"We'll be downstairs at six," said Eric. Eve took that statement as her cue to leave us.

"Call me if you need anything," she said, and left.

"I'm sorry," said Eric at once, turning to me.

"About what?" I asked.

"You're coming with me to the screening tonight, and I forgot to tell you to pack a nice outfit," he said. He closed his eyes again. He looked exhausted already, and the whole shebang hadn't even begun yet.

"It's okay. I'll wear whatever they bring me," I said. I tried to make my voice soft to calm him a little.

"Thank you, dear one. Having you here is the best part of this whole thing," he said, grabbing my hand and kissing my palm.

We watched TV. There really wasn't much to do while we waited to get ready. A whole rack of outfits with several shoe boxes were delivered about an hour after Eve had asked for them. Eric lounged on the bed while he watched me paw through the pretty black dresses. I held one up with thick shoulder straps, and he shook his head. I held up another, strapless, and he took on a thoughtful expression. I interpreted that as a maybe, so I set the dress aside and kept looking. I held up another, a bustier sheath dress. This one looked dangerous, but Eric gave me another "maybe" look. I held up one last dress, with a crisscross pattern across the chest, and set it aside.

I stripped everything but my underwear, and Eric was beside me in a flash. I had never seen that man move that fast.

"I need to try on the dresses," I mumbled while he kissed my chest and pulled me to the bed.

"I need you," he said. He really had no argument from me. I needed him too, and my body had responded to his touch immediately. I was suddenly very grateful for the plushy carpet and its noise cancelling qualities.

We laid in each other's arms for a long time after making love. I felt him sigh. It must have been time to get ready. I took a shower first, then fixed my hair and put on my makeup while he took his. We got dressed in silence. I chose a pair of strappy high-heeled sandals to go along with my dress.

"You look beautiful, darling," he said from behind me. I turned and my breath caught in my throat. Eric dressed up was stunning. He had brushed his hair out and it looked slick and sexy. He'd done away with the beard before coming to New York, so his handsome face was completely visible. He had put on a pair of expensive-looking jeans and a striped button down shirt, together with a gray sport coat. I'd never seen him in a blazer before. On top of everything else, he was wearing a gorgeous smile, the kind that turned my insides to chocolate pudding.

"Wow…" I said, letting the word escape.

"You too," he said, walking to me. He put a square velvet box in my hands. It was too big to belong to a ring, but it was certainly jewelry.

"What is this?" I asked, holding it up. I was waiting for an answer before I opened it.

"It's a present for you. It's to thank you for coming with me," he said, turning it around so that, when he opened it, the pair of sparkly earrings was facing me. They were hoops, adorned with countless tiny diamonds, and a dangling charm with a bigger diamond in the center. My eyes widened at the extravagant gift. Another one.

"Thank you, honey, they're just beautiful," I whispered. I was actually quite overwhelmed.

"No, my love, thank _you_. I was going to save these until we had some real time to ourselves, but you deserve them now. Besides, they will look lovely with your new dress," he said. He gave me a quick peck on the lips, trying not to disturb my lipstick. I put the earrings on, and felt them dangling gently against my skin.

Alcide rode shotgun in the sedan that picked us up to take us to the theatre. Eric looked at me, holding my gaze with the sweetest expression, then shot me one of his biggest most dazzling smiles, the kind that made me smile too.

"You're the most gorgeous woman, and I love you with all my heart," he said leaning to whisper it to me, but still holding my gaze. In another effort to not ruin my lipstick, he ducked his head under my chin and gently kissed the hollow of my throat. It felt amazing, and I forgot time and place.

"We're here," announced Alcide. He got out of the car first, held the door for Eric, who helped me out in turn. He shot me another dazzling smile, this time my answering smile had nothing to do with contagion. I knew what he was trying to do. For once he was a consummate actor, through and through. He was trying his best to put me at ease, and not showing any of his emotions, except for one: he allowed his elation to come through.

Eric held me tight to his side as Alcide walked behind us. This wasn't a premiere, so our entrance was not an exhibition. Our car moved behind us to make room for another car, and I got a little excited: I was going to meet other movie stars, my own personal miracle excluded.

All the reporters were already in their assigned seats. They saw us arrive and started scribbling furiously. I felt a little self-conscious until I felt Eric's soft touch on my arm. I looked up to see his expression still clear. He put his hand on my neck briefly, and kept leading the way. Whatever and however he did it, Eric kept me sane and whole, like he usually did.

We sat down next to one of Eric's co-stars and her husband, who were very nice and started up a pleasant conversation about (of all things) the goodie bags we would receive at the end of the movie. Even movie stars liked freebies. It was nice to know. A few more people entered the theatre and the movie started.

It was a good movie, all but the parts where my (mine!) Eric kissed somebody else. I tried very hard to remember that he was an actor, and that he had made this movie before he met me. I detached myself, the girlfriend from the movie enthusiast. He would still hold my hand tighter during those scenes, as if he was apologizing, but it wasn't necessary. The story was so moving, I found myself lost in it.

Alcide, Eric and I left (goodie bags in hand) and nothing happened. Once in the car I breathed a sigh of relief. Eric hugged me to him and seemed to relax as well. Everything had gone well during my first public outing.

After breakfast and before leaving the next morning, Eric eyed me carefully. I don't know what he was looking for in my face, but all he found was curiosity.

"What's wrong?" I finally asked.

"Are you sure you can't stay here? Do you really have to go out?" he asked back.

"Nothing is going to happen. We'll take the car to the Met, then back. There are guards there and Alcide will be with me. I won't let him out of my sight," I said, trying to ease the tension.

"I won't let _her_ out of my sight," corrected Alcide, who was with us at the table. He gave Eric a look that said he meant business.

"Please keep her safe," said Eric. The plea was in his eyes as well.

"I will," said Alcide, serious.

"Please keep safe, for me," said Eric, looking intensely in my eyes. I could see the stress my little outing was causing him. I wavered.

"Do you want me to stay?" I asked, sighing in defeat. His eyes lit up for half a second, but he shook his head.

"No, no. Just keep yourself safe. I love you," he kissed my forehead and left. I sighed again. He probably left so that he wouldn't take me up on the offer. He always gave me what I wanted, and felt awful if he couldn't. I should have just said I would stay, period, without giving him an option.

"Sookie… I hid this from him," Alcide said, handing me a newspaper. "He doesn't need to see it before all the interviews. But, are you sure you still want to go?" he asked.

The newspaper had a huge headline about an environmental catastrophe. But the smaller headlines were just as prominent. Beside a photo of Eric and me at the airport was the caption: "Beautiful and Deadly: Will Eric Be Next?" My heart sank. Is that what they thought of me? I stared at the headline for a couple of minutes, trying to decide whether I wanted to read what was inside or not.

"The story is mostly accurate inside the newspaper," said Alcide, watching my struggle.

"It doesn't take away from the fact that it's wrong in front," I said. My voice had turned cynical. I tossed the paper in the trash can. "Let's go," I said, grabbing my purse from a chair.

The Met had just opened when we arrived. There weren't many people at all. Alcide was a good sport, particularly when I made my way to the armor exhibit. There was so much to see that we were only halfway done when we got hungry for lunch. We decided to just grab something at the museum's cafeteria, but first, the tricky subject of the bathroom. I really needed to go.

"Go to the family one," Alcide said, pointing at the one meant for only one person at a time. But it was occupied.

"I'll be fine at the regular one," I said. I wasn't going to be able to wait God-knew-how-long for the other one. Besides, nobody had recognized me thus far, let alone bothered me. Alcide made a face but let me go.

As I washed my hands I looked at myself in the mirror. I couldn't tell how close I looked to my photo in the paper, since the photo had been small, and us smaller in it. Either way, right now I had my hair pulled back into a ponytail and no makeup.

Another woman came to stand next to me to wash her hands, even though there were several empty sinks and nobody else besides us. Something clicked in my head when I saw her glancing sideways at me. I didn't have time to react to my sixth sense. She swung her right arm at me across my stomach, knocking me to the floor and the breath out of me. I was too stunned, and my body was having issues trying to catch my breath, to notice her next intention. She kicked me hard in the stomach again and again, and one time I heard a crunch where her foot met a rib. The pain was excruciating, my body recoiled and I balled up, trying in vain to stop her from hurting me further. I felt pain in my back, where she started kicking me next. My body was finally able to gather enough air to form a scream. I was desperate.

"You will not hurt him!" I held the woman yell. Her voice was closer than I thought it would be. I felt her weight on me as she started pulling my hair. I kept screaming, and her weight was finally off me with a loud thump. I stayed where I was, still screaming, this time out of pain and shock. I could hear Alcide's voice, so I stopped my screaming and started sobbing. Alcide was calling for help. I didn't know how long it took, but suddenly the sound of police radios was all around us.

"Let's get her out of here. The EMT's can't get a gurney in here," said a man.

"Sookie, it's me, I'm picking you up, girl," said Alcide, and I felt the floor disappear. I kept my eyes closed for the most part, but I opened them briefly to glance around me. I could see the woman on her stomach, being held there by two cops, her hands in cuffs. Alcide set me down on a gurney that was waiting outside, and I felt a flutter of motion all around me.

"Sookie, where does it hurt," a woman asked.

"My chest," I answered, still trying to catch my breath. It was horribly painful each time I tried to breathe in. I didn't do well with pain and passed out.

When I woke up it was to the sound of another man's voice, demanding an answer.

"How old are you, Sookie?" I finally understood the question enough to answer.

"Twenty seven," I choked out. I felt pain again as this man's hands probed my right side.

"Are you on any medications? I want to give you something for pain, but I need to know what you take," he said. This man was actually trying to calm me down. His tone was even, trying to make me understand what he was saying. _Where am I?_

"Just the pill," I answered. All I cared about was relief. If answering his questions would give me pain relief, I was all for it. The doctor barked an order for some kind of medicine, and then started feeling around my other side.

"Sookie I have to turn you, are you ready?" he asked. I just nodded, wincing and gasping as he turned me onto my left side.

"Get her ready for X-rays," he said to someone in the room. I finally opened my eyes when the doctor turned me back, and a lady with a kind voice approached me.

"Just let me know if something becomes too painful. I have to take your clothes off but I'd rather not cut them, okay sweetie?" she asked. I nodded again. She started with my shoes and pants. The shirt and the bra were the worst, as was putting on the gown. Another nurse walked in and injected something into my IV. _When did I get an IV? _

They took me to get X-rays and had me back in ten minutes. The pain medicine was making me feel better and not loopy. It must not have been the good stuff.

"So you don't have anything broken at least," said the doctor walking in swiftly, holding up an X-ray film. Even though he looked at it up in the air and had made his diagnosis, he still stuck it in the light machine, followed by another set of films.

"But you do have a tiny crack right here," he said pointing with his pinky at one of my right ribs. "And, of course, a lot of bruising. Thankfully, no collapsed lungs, no trauma to your other organs. If you think you feel well enough to leave, I'll let you leave. However," he held his finger up, walking towards me with a very serious expression, "if you feel anything weird in any way, you must promise to come back," said the doctor. He looked impossibly young to be a doctor.

"What do you mean?" I asked. I was all for leaving as soon as possible.

"If you feel short of breath, or if you can't go to the bathroom or start feeling pain right here," he pointed to a spot on his own back, "I need you to come back right away. If you can promise me that, I'll release you to your bodyguard," he said. He tried to look serious again, but a smile was playing on his lips.

"I promise." _Duh_, I added mentally.

"Alright. I'll sign your papers. Send in her bodyguard when she's ready, okay Kathy?" said the doctor, turning to talk to a nurse who had never left the room.

Kathy, the nurse who had helped me put on the gown, helped me get dressed.

"I want you to know that the woman who attacked you is in jail, okay? Nobody is going to hurt you anymore," said Kathy soothingly.

"Thank you," I said. I didn't really know what else to say.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked. I nodded so she proceeded. "How is Eric Northman in real life?" asked Kathy, her face flushing. Her face was open and kind. I had to smile.

"He's very sweet and down to earth. Very giving, too," I answered. She smiled wider.

"That's so nice to hear. You know, sweetie? I read your story, and being a nurse of course I know exactly what happened. I'm sorry that it's put you in such a tough spot. People can be so illogical sometimes. But it will be fine, you'll see," she said. The doctor had bandaged up my stomach to help with the cracked rib.

"Thank you, Kathy. I really appreciate it," I said. I couldn't help it, and started to cry again. God! When Eric saw me he would be beside himself.

"Oh, sweetie. It will be fine," Kathy said holding me as best she could, trying not to disturb my bandage. She handed me a box of tissues.

She handed me off to Alcide, and we made our way back to the hotel. We went in the back entrance, and were in our room in only a few minutes.

"Are you hungry? I'm ordering some food for dinner," asked Alcide. He hadn't spoken to me until now.

"I'm not hungry, but I should eat something. I'll have a soup or something," I said, and then sat down at a dining room chair. If I sank into the sofa, there was no question of my getting up without help.

Alcide ordered dinner and sat across from me, waiting. He didn't look at me, only down at the table.

"I'm very sorry Sookie. I should have done things differently. I didn't expect somebody to be waiting for you. I only expected somebody to follow," he said. He put his head in his hands. He was struggling.

"It's not your fault. Neither of you wanted me to go out, and I was being stubborn. I should have thought about it better," I said. I tried to take a deep breath, but the motion hurt quite a bit. The pain medicine was beginning to wear off. I needed my food to take some more.

"When Eric finds out he's going to kill me, as is his right," said Alcide.

"Eric can't find out!" I said, more forcefully than I meant to. Alcide looked at me in surprise.

"Would you care to explain how you're going to keep this from him?" asked Alcide, his eyes wide and incredulous.

"That's for me to worry about. You cannot tell him, and you will not tell him. Nobody in the press knows, so he won't find out unless it comes directly from us… which it won't!" I said. I tried to make my face fierce, but all I managed was a grimace when the pain hit me again.

"Alright, but he _will_ find out, and be more upset that you didn't tell him right away," said Alcide, and dropped the subject.

I was exhausted after dinner. It was nearly eight already. We had spent a long time at the hospital, longer than I'd imagined. I went to my bedroom and undressed gingerly. I left the bandage in place. Nurse Kathy had shown me how to take it off and put it back on, but only to take a shower. I was to keep it on at all times. I looked at myself in the mirror and I had big splotches of red under my skin around my abdomen and my back. Some had already started to turn a little brown. I winced. If Eric saw this… Oh, God! He would die. I put on my PJ, and got in bed. I knew Eric wouldn't be back until after 9pm. I planned on being asleep by then. Hopefully he'd think I had a very tiring day and not suspect anything was amiss.

**TBC**


	13. My Skin

**A/N: **This was one of the most difficult chapters I've ever had to write. Every time I read it to edit it, I get all ferklempt… So I named the title after a song by Natalie Merchant that always gets me the same way.

* * *

**Chapter 13 – My Skin**

I woke up the next morning, stiff and sore. It felt like I hadn't moved all night. Then, a realization: _Where's Eric?_ I looked around, ignoring the stabbing pain on my right side, and saw him. He was asleep. I lowered myself back onto the bed slowly, using my arms as much as possible. If he touched me, he would feel the bandage and find out something was wrong. I had to move, but I had just used up a lot of energy looking for him. Eric fidgeted a little. He would wake up any second. I held a pillow tightly against my abdomen and got up. Then I had to catch my breath.

"What's wrong?" Eric asked me. His voice startled me. I ended up with a hand on my mouth to muffle a cry. The sudden intake of breath was more than I could bear.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. He didn't see anything wrong with my behavior, only that he had startled me.

"I'm okay. I think I slept too long in the same position. I'm all stiff," I said. It could have been true.

"Yes. You were very still all night," he said musing. He held out his hand for me to come over, I made a face.

"I really have to use the bathroom, and I'm really hungry. Can you order breakfast?" I asked, walking away. I even locked the door to the bathroom, just in case.

When I came out, he started to get up from the bed. I had two seconds to think about this, because he would want a kiss and his hands would be at my waist. He would feel the bandage, no doubt. When he got close enough, I took his hands in mine, as he bent to kiss me. I almost lost it with the kiss. I wanted to tell him everything, to have him hold me and make it all better, to cry in his arms. But I couldn't do that to him. I wouldn't.

"You have to tell me about your day yesterday," I said, pulling away, his hands still in mine.

"You have that wrong… YOU have to tell me about your day," he said smiling. I shook my head and smiled, but I really wanted to cry.

"I only went to a boring museum," I said. "Wow! I'm really hungry…" I said, pretending that my stomach was angry.

"I already ordered breakfast. They'll be here in a few minutes, darling. Sit with me," he said, trying to pull me to the bed. _Uh oh!_

"Um… I need coffee. I'll go make some. I don't think I can wait until they bring it up," I said pulling away from him completely. He looked at me quizzically, but let me go. He went to use the bathroom and I escaped completely.

Alcide had taken it upon himself to make the coffee. Just as well… all I wanted to do was sit down.

"How are you feeling?" he asked in a hush voice.

"I'm in a lot of pain. I have to eat something to take my medicine. Do you have it?" I asked. I'd given it to him to hide. He patted his shirt pocket. I sighed in relief. He handed me a pill so I could take it as soon as the food arrived.

Eric came out and sat across from me. Alcide sat at the head of the table waiting for the coffee to brew.

"So, what happened yesterday?" I pressed Eric. He would have to leave right after breakfast again, and hopefully I could keep him talking long enough that he wouldn't ask me again about my day.

"It was long and boring. Nobody dared ask personal questions, so that was good. They all seemed to genuinely like the movie and had good questions about it," he stopped to answer the door. Our food was here, thank God! I was about to get up to get food from the cart and Alcide motioned for me to stay seated.

Alcide put together a plate for me, though Eric assumed it was for Alcide himself. He waited his turn, frowning, probably thinking that Alcide was being rude for taking the first turn. Eric's expression changed significantly when Alcide placed the food in front of me and turned to make me a cup of coffee.

"Sweetheart… you didn't tell me you were in such pain," said Eric, thinking that the pain I was feeling was from sleeping in the wrong position, and that I had asked Alcide to get my food.

"It's nothing. Alcide had some ibuprofen. I'll feel better in no time," I said. No need to hide the pill anymore. He wouldn't look too close. "What else happened yesterday?" I asked again.

"We started with the round table interviews, and those took a while. Then we were treated to a nice lunch, and then we did the taped interviews. Those usually take the longest. Then we had a late dinner and when I got here you were both out," he said, pointing at Alcide and me in turn.

"What's on the agenda for today?" I asked. Eric had a mouth full of food. Eventually he answered.

"Today we have the shows in the morning and the afternoon. I'll be able to come back for lunch," he said smiling at me. Obviously he thought this should be good news for me. I tried to form an appropriate response.

"That's good, honey. We don't have anything planned for today…"

"You don't?" he interrupted me.

"No, not today. We walked the whole museum yesterday. I think we can give our tootsies a break," I said. Alcide nodded, following my lead.

We ate in mostly silence for a few minutes. My pain medicine wasn't having the quick effect I had been hoping for.

"Did you like the Met?" asked Eric.

"Yes, everything was very interesting. They had a couple of new exhibits," I said, but my heart wasn't in it. Alcide saved me.

"Sookie took pity on me and we went to the hall of armors. It was one of the most interesting exhibits," Alcide continued talking about that exhibit, while I tried to eat. I was thankful he took the pressure off me, but I could feel Eric glancing at me once in a while.

Eric finally left and I went to lie down and watch TV in our bedroom. I did take a shower and get dressed, which took everything I had left in terms of energy. The pain was too much. I'd never done well with physical pain. I left the door to the bedroom open, just in case. It had been Alcide's suggestion. He had given me another pain pill after I had begged. That one finally took the edge off. I had looked at myself in the mirror again, this time without the bandage. I was black and blue all over my middle and back. It wasn't separate splotches, but one continuous patch from the bottom of my breasts to my bellybutton, all the way around. The bandage was only about four inches wide, meant to hold together just the part that had cracked. I put it back on, but it didn't help to hide any of the bruising.

I watched some TV without really paying attention. I was careful, choosing channels that wouldn't show any entertainment news. I fell asleep without actually meaning to, so I was startled when the bed moved next to me.

"Hi," said Eric, running a finger down my cheek.

"Oh! I'm sorry. You keep finding me asleep," I said. I couldn't get up, not without holding a pillow against me. But I wanted to get up so bad, to run away.

"Yesterday must have been very tiring for you," he said, this time caressing my hair. I tried not to cringe from his touch. His blue eyes were clear. I could only guess what he could see in mine, because he frowned.

"Yes. The museum floors were all tile and marble, and we walked the whole museum. I'm in a lot more pain than I'd anticipated," I said quickly. It could be true. I hated lying to him, even though it was half a lie. His eyes softened once more.

"I can take care of that," he said. He uncovered my bare feet and massaged them gently. This touch wouldn't help me, but I pretended it did. I closed my eyes and let him. But I had to stall him some other way as well.

"Would you believe me if I told you I was hungry?" I asked. He chuckled.

"Yes, I'd believe you. I already ordered you something. It should be here any minute," he said, getting up and offering me a hand. This would work. I took it and he pulled me up, without my having to use my abdominal muscles. I was in pain again, though.

I sat down at the dining room table again, waiting for food and a pain pill. I made a face at Alcide, who had been watching TV but was now looking at me intently. He understood at once that I was in pain again, _in pain still_.

Lunch arrived and I took the pill without Eric noticing.

"What shows did you do this morning?" I asked Eric, trying to keep him talking.

"A couple of morning shows. Those are usually more fun than others. They're live," he said. He seemed to be in good spirits.

"And how did they go?"

"Very well. We did talk about you in one of them, but there were very good about their questions. They gave me a chance to make you shine," he said, almost beaming at me. I couldn't help but smile back, though it wasn't with as much feeling as usual. He seemed to read something different in my expression.

"Don't worry. They only pointed out the fact that I'd been seen with you in Puerto Rico, and if you were my new love. I said you were the love of my life. It's not something you didn't know," he said. I felt a little self-conscious, since this was the type of talk that Eric and I reserved for more intimate times, and Alcide was so obviously there.

"I do know that," I answered, looking down. He reached across the table and brought my chin up. I smiled as well and convincingly as I could, and he seemed to settle for it.

"I'm yours for a few hours. What would you like to do?" he asked softly.

"Can we watch a movie? Movies are more fun with you," I said, which was true. He usually shared some insight or tidbit about how the movie was probably made. It made it interesting.

"Of course, sweetheart," he said, just as soft as before. I must have looked tired. I felt tired. Between the beating and the pain pills, I was exhausted.

We headed to our bedroom and he closed the door behind us. I lied in bed, getting up on it using all fours. It was the best way I had devised for not using my abdominal muscles. He lied next to me, and put his arm behind my back, hugging me to him. Nothing hurt me anymore after we were still. He chose a movie, but it didn't take long for his attention to drift to me. He tilted my head up so he could kiss me. The kiss was soft, gentle, much better than any pain pill. I would have enjoyed it much more if I hadn't been intensely focused on his left hand, the one that was now on my arm.

"I'm so sorry, Eric. I'm just so tired…" I said, and tried in vain to suppress a yawn.

"It's alright, darling. Go to sleep if you want to. I'll wake you up before I leave," he said, smoothing my hair. He didn't really have to tell me twice. The minute I closed my eyes I fell asleep.

In my dream I could see the woman's face so much more clearly. The woman who had beaten me had morphed into Lorena Compton, and she was beating me again. This time I was able to fight back, to hold on to my breath and scream for help immediately. I wasn't sure which of us gasped. I heard a gasp and a scream of rage. But it wasn't a woman's, which made me take notice. I whirled around to see where it was coming from. Suddenly I realized that the fingers touching me now weren't trying to hurt me. I woke up with a start, only to see something worse than my nightmares. Eric's face was twisted in shock and rage, his eyes staring at my middle, his fingers undoing the buttons of my shirt.

"Sookie…" he whispered my name over and over. "No, no!" The unanswered plea played over and over on his lips. Finally a scream of rage escaped him, and he ran out of the room. I heard the door bang, and his voice loud.

"Who did that to her?" Eric asked, demanding an answer from Alcide.

"A woman attacked her at the museum, while she went to the bathroom. She wouldn't let me tell you," Alcide said, using a cool tone. He wanted to calm Eric down just using his voice.

"May I remind you that I'm the one paying for your services?" asked Eric, this time his voice had a lower pitch, menacing.

"But she's the one I answer to, per your orders," answered Alcide, and he took a deep breath, a sigh. "She wanted to spare you this," I could imagine Alcide's gesturing in Eric's general direction. And then silence. It was so silent that I even heard the clicking sound of Eric using his cell phone.

"Eve? I won't be able to make it to the shows tonight. I got sick, goodbye," he said and walked back in our bedroom, shutting the door.

His face was a mask of pure rage. He paced in front of our bed, holding on to his hair with both hands, his face to the ceiling. At that moment I knew exactly what it felt like to have your heart broken. I took a deep ragged breath, which sent an excruciating shot of pain that I felt all the way to the tip of my fingers. I started to cry, barely able to move. I thought I would die between the physical pain, and the pain I had caused Eric. I covered my face with my hands, wishing that woman would have killed me instead of just beating me. Then I wouldn't have had to see Eric contorted in grief.

"Sookie… why didn't you tell me?" he asked. He must have knelt beside my side of the bed, because his voice was soft and near. I just shook my head. What was I supposed to say? Alcide had already said it for me. I felt his fingers tracing lines on my belly, pulling my shirt back. He must have seen that the bruises went all the way to my back.

"I'm so sorry, Sookie. I'm so sorry," he put his head down on the bed. Now he was the one crying. I put my hand on his hair, stroking it.

"I'm sorry, Eric. I was so stupid. I should have stayed here like you wanted…" I trailed off. I couldn't find my breath anymore. It was too much, too much.

"I noticed you were so tired, and I had this stupid fantasy that maybe you were pregnant. I tried to rub your belly but when I lifted your shirt…" he didn't finish. "Why are people always hurting you? I never thought I could hurt you, but look! I've gone and done it, haven't I?" by now he was looking at my belly again.

"The fantasy isn't stupid… and this wasn't your fault…" I managed to choke out.

We cried ourselves out eventually. He was still kneeling by my side when he brought his face up to mine. He kissed me softly, so tenderly that I couldn't help the next tears that came.

"This will never happen again. I swear, Sookie. You will never get hurt because of me, ever again," he said. His eyes were determined, as if he had come to a decision that I wasn't privy to, yet. I didn't say anything. I was coming up with a decision of my own.

Because it didn't matter how he was planning on keeping me safe, if something ever happened to me anyway, I wouldn't be able to take his pain. Seeing him in pain was more painful to me than the sharpest physical pain. I would have to let him go.

And yet, his gentle touch, the way he helped me up, buttoned my shirt, got me dinner… all those things that I always imagined one spouse would do for the other if the other was sick. But thinking that way was selfish. I already knew he was my world. I already knew he would be an excellent husband. What I didn't know, and could never be sure of, was whether he truly meant it when he said he loved me above all others and all else. Sometimes I thought of all the times Bill had said the same thing. Sometimes I thought of all the beautiful women in Eric's circle, women who shared his way of life and had less problems.

"One with food every six hours," Alcide said, handing the bottle of pills to Eric. "She can take it without food but it will upset her stomach. She has a cracked rib on her right side," both Alcide and Eric winced, "so the bandage has to stay on tight at all times. She has to see her doctor when she gets home for follow up X-rays," Alcide handed Eric my hospital release forms. I hated the way he spoke about me like I wasn't there. Then again, I supposed I deserved it.

"The woman?" asked Eric.

"Since I witnessed the assault, she's automatically in custody. In arraignment today she pleaded not guilty, but again, I was a witness… a reliable one. They set bail at a million. She's not going anywhere," Alcide said, crossing his arms on his chest.

"How do you…?" I started to ask, Alcide interrupted, already knowing my question and having a ready answer.

"The D.A. knows me. He called me with the details. He's going to try to get a plea bargain so that neither of us has to come back to New York to testify. That part has all been taken care of," said Alcide. I wondered which part was still missing. I decided I didn't care. But Eric did.

"What's the other part?" asked Eric.

"She's only one of a few who think Sookie is out to kill you. For some reason they've gotten it in their heads that Sookie killed her husband. I've been keeping an eye out on the internet," the last part was mumbled.

I heard a strange sound, like a clanging sound. I didn't know where it was coming from exactly. I looked at Alcide and Eric and they were both looking at me. Eric stood up and came to me, put his hands on mine, and the noise stopped. I looked down. My hands had been shaking, banging the fork on the plate in front of me.

"Shh… Sweetheart. It's okay. I'm here, I'm here," Eric said, trying to soothe me. He picked me up from the chair and took me to the bed. He tucked me under the covers and tucked himself beside me. I was still shaking, so he held me tight. The spasms weren't helping with the pain.

"We'll go home tomorrow morning," he said soothingly.

"You can't. You have photo shoots," I said.

"I don't have anything. We're going home."

"Eric…" I said, trying to reason with him. It was his job after all.

"Nothing matters to me now more than you. I'm tired of being here anyway. I want to go home. You need to be home, I need to be home, so we're going home," he said. His tone was final.

Though I hadn't been able to keep my bruises from Eric, we both agreed to keep everything from my family. Nothing had leaked to the media about my assault, and Alcide's D.A. friend had kept it that way.

It was extraordinarily painful to let Eric help me in any way. He insisted on taking care of me, but every time he saw me naked, guilt colored his expression. He helped me with the bandage, since he could tighten it much better than me. One morning, after my shower, he was helping me get dressed. He was sitting on my bed tightening the bandage, and then smoothing it against my skin. He rested his hands gently on my waist. Some of the bruises had turned a strange shade of yellow, some were still very dark. He kissed each dark one, so softly that his lips felt like feathers. I felt something else: wetness, tears, falling on my skin. He took in a ragged breath. I put my hands on his shoulders.

At that moment I felt a thousand different emotions: rage, fear, guilt, sadness, I was even happy. Each and every emotion tied into this one gesture of his. But I was done. I pulled away. I didn't even look at him to see his face now.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't keep doing this to you. Every time you look at me… it's as if you did this to me," I paused to gather my thoughts.

"I did do it to you," he mumbled, still sitting.

"No! No, you didn't. If there is anyone to blame here is my ex-mother-in-law who is a psycho bitch intent on ruining my life. Just like her son! Just like that poor excuse for a human being who I felt sorry for when he died. I should have let him rot in that hospital. A carcass, with bedsores, and tubes coming out of every orifice. Maybe she would have been happy then!"

"People grieve in weird ways," Eric allowed.

"I don't care! You! I care about you and what THIS" I pointed to my middle, "is doing to you. There will always be someone who will hurt me, in whatever shape or form. My brother and I bicker constantly, and we call each other names, and it hurts. Are you going to feel responsible for that too?"

"It's not the same."

"It is the same. You can't just hide out here and try to protect me all the time. Life doesn't work that way. You already skipped on your obligations for me. What's next? Are you not going to the premiere? Are you skipping the next movie junket altogether? That's part of what you do. And you haven't read a script in God knows how long… I have to start school in August, and we're almost there. Are you sending Alcide to school with me? Are YOU coming along? When I go shopping, or take my car in for an oil change? Are you going to stop making movies?" I had started pacing, until my last question. I finally turned to him. He was beyond hurt. He was devastated.

"I'll make a movie, just… I don't want you to get hurt again," he muttered. He looked down. I wanted to go over there and hug him. But I remained rooted to the floor.

The realization hit me like a wrecking ball. If he was going to keep getting hurt, then I would have to deal the final blow. After that he would heal and move on, and never had to worry about me again. It would hurt me so much more, a thousand deaths. But he would be okay. He was all that mattered. I could be selfless, if it meant he would be okay.

"You have to go," I whispered, because I couldn't make my voice be any louder. But he heard me as if I had shouted it.

"What?" he looked up, incredulous. "What do you mean?"

"We can't be together anymore. You have to go," I repeated. My voice wasn't getting any louder.

"I don't understand. Why can't we be together?" he stood up, trying to reach for me, but I moved out of the way.

"Because we don't belong in the same world. Look, I had a crush on you, but now it's over," I lied. I couldn't look at him. He caught up to me and turned me around, always gentle, though his eyes were filled with rage that almost made me cringe.

"Tell me that to my face," he said, in that way I now recognized as menacing.

I just couldn't lie to him while looking into his eyes. It was impossible. Those same blue eyes had held me in awe, in love. My brand new life had started when I stared at those eyes for the first time. I had no home if Eric wasn't in it.

"Tell it to my face, Sookie," he demanded again. I shook my head. It was my heart, speaking for me. And then it made me reach for him. I ignored the pain at my side and pulled him to me, burying my face in his chest, hoping to get him inside me through osmosis, like I'd done the first time we had kissed.

"That's what I thought," he whispered in my ear. "Don't you ever say that we don't belong together. You can't ever leave me, Sookie Stackhouse," he said, as I listened to his voice rumble in his chest.

The next morning I went for a walk with my mom. I missed these. I had missed my whole family. I'd been without them for more than two weeks.

"So, what's new?" asked my mom.

"I tried to break up with Eric yesterday," I said, waiting for the onslaught. It came.

"Why in the world would you do that? He loves you to pieces, Sookie Frances! And you love him too," she said. She had stopped in the middle of the street, AND used my middle name. Not good.

"I know, but this business about Lorena is driving him nuts. I thought it would be better for him if he didn't have to worry about me anymore," I said. But my mom was staring at me with daggers in her eyes. She rearranged her expression, and calmed down.

"Do you love him?"

"More than my life," I answered without missing a beat.

"Then why are you even considering breaking up with him? I can't imagine his expression when you told him you wanted to break up. He must have been devastated. What did he say to make you change your mind?"

"He asked me to tell him to his face."

My mom took a breath before speaking again. "And you couldn't?" she asked.

"No."

"Which to me says you better keep that notion out of your head and don't ever bring it up again," she said.

"But Mom…!"

"Don't 'but Mom' me! Sookie, honey, you have to trust the fact that maybe he can take whatever is being dished out. He obviously seems to think so. My question is: are you able to handle it? Are you using his pain as an excuse so you don't have to deal with yours? You can't keep being a little turtle going back inside your shell whenever something bad happens. Think how wonderful and rare it is to find your perfect other. It happens just once in your life, only once. Be brave and fight for it, not against it. You held on to a bad marriage for so long, hoping that it would one day get better. Why can't you do the same for this relationship?" my mom asked, putting her hand on my face. She was frowning with worry. We started walking again in silence. I had a lot to think about.

What my mom had said was right, of course. I'd held on to Bill for too long. I really wasn't being fair to not try to do the same thing to weather this particular storm. Besides, my relationship with Eric was the strongest piece of the puzzle. The gossip and accusations would eventually dwindle and die, as more people read the truth, or forgot, or not cared. Eric and I would still be, and that should be my refuge.

As we neared our houses, we heard a pair of running footsteps. I turned around, and Eric, running towards us, gifted me with a wide smile. It was as contagious as always, and I found myself smiling with him and for him.

"Hi, Charlie! Hi, sexy!" he called out as he passed us.

"Fresh!" I called after him, laughing. My mom laughed too.

"See? Everything will be just fine," my mom said when Eric was out of earshot.

When I got home I heard Eric in my shower. He had practically moved to my house by now. If he didn't use his piano and need his dock for the sailboat, he could have just sold or rented his house out and moved in with me completely.

I decided to do some laundry while I waited for him. The basket was full of clothes: half mine, half his. My underwear, his underwear, my t-shirts, his t-shirts. I was occupied with this simple task when Eric came out of the shower. He was only wearing a towel around his waist. I turned around to stare. I didn't feel shy around him anymore.

"I did mean it when I said you were sexy," he said, coming closer. He put his hands on my waist, and gently pulled me to him. He kissed my lips first then moved on to his favorites, brushing his lips against my jaw, kissing my neck, softly biting my ear. My heart missed a beat and started racing, the way it always did when Eric touched me. He ran his hands under my shirt, and tickled me with his soft touch, making me shiver. He pulled back.

"Wait! What?" I complained. I didn't want him to stop.

"I thought I'd hurt you," he said searching my expression. I smiled.

"You tickled me. You aren't usually that soft when you run your hands through that area," I said. He smiled too.

"I don't know how to be close to you now. I don't know what will hurt you," he said, letting out his breath in a puff. I knew what he meant. He'd been so careful with me that we hadn't made love in a week. By now I had healed enough that, if we were careful, we would be able to be with each other again.

"Let me do it," I said, running my hands over his chest, enjoying the warmth. He helped me take off my shirt, and I put his hands on my waist.

"This is okay," I said, showing him about how much pressure I could take. He ran his hands up, following the curve light as feathers again. He cupped my breasts and ran his thumbs over my nipples.

"Is this okay?" he asked. He took off my bra and bent to kiss my breasts. My breath caught. It was like making love for the first time… again.

"Yes, that's good," I said. I was getting goose bumps at the same time that I was growing hotter. My hands had found the knot that was holding his towel on his waist, and I undid it.

"Ah, how I've missed this, your body singing to me," he whispered against my breast. This made me take notice.

"My body sings to you?" I asked, looking down. He nodded and looked up. He held my gaze as he continued to take off the rest of my clothes.

"You don't notice it, but I do. You move the right way so I can touch you where I want; you grow hotter at my touch; even how you breathe," he took a deep breath, inhaling my scent as he buried his face in my neck. "You drive me wild."

He lifted me up gently and laid me on the bed. He was so careful as we made love, so loving. He kissed my lips over and over, soft pecks.

"I love you, Eric," I whispered against his lips. I knew he needed to hear it. He needed to feel me inside and out. And he needed to know that I would always be his. "I'm yours, my love, always."

"Don't leave me Sookie. I couldn't take it," he said, this time he looked at me, pleading.

"I won't. I'm so sorry I said that. I can't be without you, I can't live," I said to him. I stared at him again, tracing each feature with my eyes. I loved doing this, not because I would find something new, but because each line and freckle was beloved. He was mine to love, and I loved him. He was looking at me the same way as I looked at him, and bit his lip, holding back a smile.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing. I just thought of something. Tomorrow will be our last night here until we have to go to the premieres. We should do something special," he said, and then he kissed me again, but this time it wasn't soft. It was needy and raw. He nearly forgot that I was injured, but he wasn't hurting me so I let him make love to me in the way I knew best. Our love was incandescent, and I was consumed.

**TBC**


	14. Spark

**A/N: **As usual I'm inspired by songs… This chapter was inspired by the Tori Amos' song of the same name. The memorable line? "You say you don't want it again and again, but you don't, don't really mean it."

* * *

**Chapter 14 – Spark **

Chris came over that afternoon, to get me ready for a gig. She was pouting as she put on my makeup.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

"We don't do anything anymore. You came back from your birthday, then you disappeared to New York, then you come back again but you haven't even left the house. Not to mention that you're leaving again in two days," she said, not really mad. More like sad.

"It's the stuff they've been saying about me. Eric would rather have me lay low for a little while," I told her, trying to help her understand. I wish things would be different.

"Going to the premieres isn't going to help," she said.

"We spoke about that. It won't help, maybe, but it would be worse for me to stay home, on several levels. Put yourself in my shoes: would Jason want to leave you alone while he goes off on tour, while the media tries to rip you to shreds? Not likely. Then, if he does go to the premieres by himself, they'll start saying that our relationship is over because the rumors were true. It's better to show a united front."

Chris's pout started to disappear a little. She was done with my makeup and Eric was allowed back inside. He would have to help me dress anyway, so I told Chris to give us some privacy. She thought I would give him a private show. Whatever floated her bubble… as long as she didn't see my bruises.

"Is this what you're wearing?" asked Eric, holding up a scary looking bustier. I couldn't read his expression. Was he mad or disapproving?

"Um… yes. It's the only thing I have that will hide my entire torso. Everything else is too high or too low… or too sheer," I told him. At least this bustier came all the way down to my hips.

"Alright. Sit down," he ordered. This was routine: pants and shoes first, then shirt, or bustier, as the case may be.

"I had some dresses sent for you. They'll be here tomorrow. I'm sorry that you'll have to try them on before we go, but I'll help," he said, by way of nothing.

"Why couldn't I go to the store?" I asked, stupidly. I was hurt that I wasn't allowed to pick my own dresses. He looked at me with one raised eyebrow, then looked pointedly at the bandage, and then at himself helping me with the pants.

"I don't think they'll allow me in the women's dressing room."

"Duh! Never mind. I don't know what I was thinking," I said, as he helped me up from the bed. It was bending that killed me.

"Sweetheart, I promise that you can go crazy shopping for the London premiere. Would you mind too much if we go visit my sister while we're there?" he asked.

"No, of course I don't mind. When is that one? Classes start soon," I said.

"We'll be gone one weekend. That one is during Labor Day weekend here. You won't miss a thing," he said, and touched my nose playfully.

I explained the bustier, and he got it on the first try. It was fun watching him struggle, though. His fingers were nimble for the piano, but too thick for the hooks of the garment. I was finally in, and the look was complete. He appraised me slowly, taking it in. He did the same thing all the time. I was of the mind that he enjoyed putting me on the spot, and making me self-conscious.

"As always, you look too sexy. I'll be in the front row, your number one fan," he said grabbing my hand as we walked out of the bedroom.

There were more people in the crowd tonight, compared to the last time I had sung. It was, actually, impressive. Eric chose to wear a hat to hide his hair, the only thing that would set him apart in this crowd. Otherwise he was wearing all black, just like everybody else. He imitated their movements quite well… or was really enjoying himself. It was hard to tell with him. He would do anything to make me happy.

Quinn had kept his distance, which was as expected, I supposed. He would be polite as always. It made me wonder what in the world he had said to Chris about me. It was probably something in admiration of my boobs, no doubt.

Chris was in the crowd next to Eric. She was beaming at my brother, _his_ number one fan. That made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, in a good way. And I did notice that she was actually mouthing the words to his lyrics. I was quite amazed. Of course, she mouthed the words to mine too. She knew all the songs by heart.

At the end of our gig, I headed straight to Eric. It was true that I was feeling better, but I still tired easily, and right now I was in a bit of pain. I had switched from the narcotics they had given me at the hospital, to plain over the counter pain pills. They helped, but not completely.

"You're not coming with us? We're going to the diner," asked Jason, as Eric practically lifted me into his truck.

"No, I'm so sorry. I'm just so exhausted," I told him the truth… or half of it, at least.

"Yeah… you look like somebody beat you up," Jason said smiling.

"Thanks," I said sarcastically. Actually, I was a little bit concerned that Eric was listening. I looked around, searching for him. He was away from the truck altogether, talking to someone.

"What's going on?" I asked Jason, nodding in Eric's general direction.

"Uh-oh," Jason said, and left, leaving Chris with me. I couldn't see in the dark. I could only make out Eric and now Jason. I didn't know who the third person was.

"What's going on, Chris?" this time my tone demanded an answer.

"I think Eric is being a little possessive of you," she answered.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because he overheard Quinn saying something about Eric keeping you prisoner, and Eric… well, you know Eric…" Chris sighed.

"Holy crap! Is this never going to end?" I asked of the car's ceiling, willing the question to make it to God, hoping He would overlook the crap part.

I got down from the truck the best way I could. Chris saw me struggling and gave me a hand. She looked at me in concern, but I didn't care to explain at this particular point. I walked to where the guys were gathered. They kept their voices low, but it was clearly an argument.

"Did you beat her? Is that why she's holding her side?" asked Quinn as he saw me approaching. Now I understood the whole thing.

"What?" I asked, almost yelled, at the same time as Jason. Eric was about to punch Quinn.

"Eric, come. Let's go. You're out of line, Quinn," I said, pointing a finger at him.

"Then why is he keeping you all locked up?" Quinn asked me.

"I'm not locked up, and it's not your fucking problem if I was. What is up with you?" I asked him. I had already put a hand on Eric's chest. He was too mad to speak.

"Quinn, you better cool it, man. Why are you messing with his woman?" asked Danny, the objective one in the band. He was also the biggest and strongest, and had already put himself between Quinn and Eric, facing Quinn. That's when Jason and I towed Eric back… well, mostly Jason.

I hadn't noticed before, but I _was_ holding my side. It hurt if I breathed past a certain point, so I was using my hand to keep my breaths shallow. Eric looked at me when we got back to the truck, tsk'd once, and lifted me up again, as gentle as ever. He put me in the seat and strapped me in. By now he knew it would have been excruciating for me to do it myself.

"Okay, now's my turn: what is wrong with Sookie?" asked Jason, but he wasn't mad. He was concerned. Eric's back was to me, and Jason and Chris had him covered. He took a deep breath, probably thinking of a lie, and turned to face them.

"It's okay, I'll tell them. They deserve to know and they won't tell anybody," I said, reaching for Eric's shoulder. He half turned to me and crossed his arms over his chest, clearly disapproving. But he read my expression. Jason and Chris had noticed something wrong and were very concerned. They would imagine a thousand different scenarios, and each would get progressively worse. Quinn was already accusing Eric of beating me. I might as well fez up, at least to the people that mattered.

"I…" I started, but was swiftly interrupted.

"Sookie was assaulted in New York," Eric said in a low voice. Jason's eyes went wide and Chris gasped, clasping her hands to her mouth. And me, I didn't know why Eric was making himself tell the story (the whole story, as it turned out).

"She has a cracked rib, and bruises all around her torso. That's why she's holding her side," said Eric, finishing the saga. The whole story was told as if I weren't there. I really hated that. But I hated Eric's expression even more. He was racked with guilt. Again!

"I don't know what to say…" murmured Jason, his eyes had not left me the whole time that Eric told the story. I could feel them, even though I was picking at the skin around my nails with undue concentration.

"There's nothing to say. It's already happened. It's nobody's fault. It won't happen again. End of story. Let's go home because I need pain meds," I said, almost a little too loud.

"Let me guess… You won't tell Mom and Dad," said Jason. It wasn't a question.

"No. They have enough to worry about," I said.

"Just like you didn't tell them about Bill," he mumbled.

"What did you say?" I asked. I couldn't fathom what he meant, exactly. But I was really afraid that he knew already, even though I'd never told anybody in my family.

"Sookie, really! Did you think I wouldn't notice? Makeup doesn't cover everything," he said. I remembered when he had come to Louisiana to be with me after Bill died. Jason came first while my parents tied up loose ends and followed a few days after. "I would have killed him myself, if he hadn't been already dead," said Jason. His voice had become a low menacing growl.

"Why didn't you say anything?" I asked. It came out in a whisper. It explained so much: why Jason was suddenly WAY overprotective, for one.

"You were trying so hard to hide it. Just like now. I'm surprised you told Eric."

"She didn't. I found out on my own. Nearly died when I saw what they'd done to her," Eric said, making my attacker into a plural entity. It probably felt like that: all the forces that combined against me.

"Figures. Let's all go home. You and I are going to have a talk, miss," Jason said pointing at me. He had become very grown up very suddenly.

Jason and Eric got in the truck, but Chris remained by my open door. She reached for my arm and squeezed it. She had tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, then headed to her own seat after she closed my door.

We rode home in silence, everybody lost in their own thoughts.

Eric was extremely careful with me as he helped me to the house. He helped me take off my clothes. He grabbed a button-down gown and helped me into it. He even pulled my hair up in a ponytail so I could wash my face.

"I'll go make you a sandwich and bring something for the pain," he said, planting a kiss on my forehead.

I washed my face, thinking, thinking, thinking… the wheels turning in my head. I was causing Eric so much pain, over and over. Tonight he had nearly come to blows with someone else, over me. Pain and more pain, again and again. I had watched his face when Jason spoke of Bill. It had become twisted with fury. Then, as Eric described the fact that he had discovered my bruises on his own, it brought back his words and the look he'd had when he first saw them. Like a wild man, sick with rage and devastation.

I washed my tears as I rinsed my face. I wouldn't do at all to cry in front of him. I made sure there was no way he could see that I'd been crying before I emerged from the bathroom. Eric was holding a sandwich in one hand, and my narcotic pain pills in the other. I didn't really want to take them, but they would help me fall asleep, and sleep would help me make better decisions in the morning.

I ate half the sandwich, sharing the other half with him, and took my pills. I lied on my left side, and he scooted close behind me. He usually held me at the waist, but he couldn't now, so he settled for running his fingers up and down my arm.

"Why do you love me? All I bring you is pain," I whispered into the dark room.

"Sookie, you're absurd," he said, a hint of ire in his soft voice.

"Answer my question. I need to know," I said sternly.

"I love you because you understand me better than anyone else. You are caring of me and others; you have a strong love and bond with your family; you're smart; you're strong; you're lots of fun when you come out of your little shell; you have an amazing voice; and have I mentioned how absolutely gorgeous you are?" he asked, this time his fingers had made their way up to my neck.

"It seems you had already made a list. Why?" I asked, incredulous. Maybe he had needed a list to make himself stay with me.

"Because I like counting the ways, like Shakespeare: 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?' Or maybe because when you start imagining a future with someone, it's a good idea to do it for the right reasons. We both got married for the wrong reasons before. Maybe this time we get it right," he said, hinting again at the fact that he wanted to marry me. "Why do you love me, Sookie?" he asked softly, hesitantly.

"Because you understand me better than I understand myself. You care for me and for my family; you're smart; you're strong," we chuckled at the parallels, "you move me with your smile, so sincere; and you saw me, when I thought I was invisible. You're also amazingly gorgeous, and I love the way you play the piano for me," I said. That last part was pain-pill induced. I was starting to drift. But I made myself focus.

"It's more than that Eric. But sometimes words fail… It's like I found my home when you found me. But I don't want to keep hurting you, because it hurts me too," I said, reaching up to take his hand, and bringing his arm around my shoulder.

He got a little closer to me, molding his body to mine. "Nothing else is going to happen, so it's a moot point."

"It's not moot. Things do happen, sometimes."

"Are you anticipating a catastrophe that I don't know about?" he asked. I sighed.

"No," I answered. I was past the point of making coherent sentences anyway.

"Sleep, my love. You need to rest," he said, and I obeyed.

In my dream, Eric was drowning in a turbulent black sea. He called out to me and I jumped in the water. If he held onto me, he would sink me and I would perish. If I didn't let him hold on, then he would sink, and he would perish. So I let him hold onto me as I sank under the waves. I couldn't see him anymore, just a strange quiet under the water. The light filtered in dimly, and I felt myself sinking deeper. Nothing held me down anymore, but I couldn't make myself rise. I kept sinking, sinking, no Eric, no sun, just dark warm water. I silently wished for Eric to be safe, hoping that my sacrifice had served its purpose.

I woke up and my face was damp. I must have been crying in my dream. I felt Eric's warm body still contoured against mine, his breathing was even. He was still asleep. I got up quietly and made my way to the bathroom. I lifted my gown to look at my bruises. Still there, though not as dark. My rib wasn't hurting too much this morning. The pill and the sleep had worked their charms. I could breathe again. I luxuriated in the feeling of taking a deep breath.

Eric was still fast asleep when I came out of the bathroom, so I went to make coffee and check my emails. As the coffee brewed, I checked the headlines on my email server. The very first one made me almost pass out: "Eric Northman: 'He beat up Sookie,' Says Source."

I cursed under my breath, every word that I knew in two languages. I clicked on the link, and braced myself.

_Sources tell us that Eric Northman has been keeping his new girlfriend, Sookie Stackhouse, locked up tight. The source, who spoke to us on condition of anonymity, says she hasn't been seen outside since the movie junket last week. When she finally made a public appearance, she was holding onto her side in apparent pain._

I couldn't read anymore. I just shut the computer and even forgot to check my emails. I hadn't even noticed that I was hyperventilating, until Buddy looked at me funny.

When Eric read this he would lose it. I already knew the unnamed source, of course. It was Quinn in some kind of jealous rage. It didn't take away the fact that Eric's relationship with me was not meant to be. We kept getting accused of things by people making twisted assumptions. It was never going to end.

I found myself holding on to the counter in front of the coffeemaker. _How did I get here?_ It was an automatic thing: I reached for a cup, poured coffee into it, sugar, milk. Turned around to see Eric staring at me and I almost dropped my cup.

"Whoa!" exclaimed Eric, as I spilled almost half my coffee on the floor. "I'll get it. Did it get you?" he asked, grabbing some towels.

"No," I answered.

"Where were you just now? I said all kinds of stuff and you didn't hear me," he said, as he mopped up the spilled coffee.

"Oh… I guess I'm still half asleep," I said. It was as good an excuse as any other.

"I asked what do you want for breakfast?" he said, giving me a quick kiss on the lips before cleaning the floor some more.

"I'm not hungry. I think I'll just have coffee today," I said, feeling numb. I sat down with the rest of my coffee and stared out my kitchen windows.

What would my life be like without Eric? Hollow and empty, the answer came to me right away. And what would his life be like without me? Probably the same for a little bit, then everything would settle down and he could find someone else. A wave of jealousy washed over me when I thought of him with someone else. But he would be happy. Was I really so selfless? I could try, for his sake. The real question was: could I bear to inflict more pain on him by being selfish? No, I couldn't. I wouldn't. Not anymore. Last time I tried to let him go, he told me to tell it to his face. So that's what I would have to do.

I was thinking of when and where to break up, when Eric set a plate of food in front of me.

"What's this?" I asked, sounding a little more irritated than I really was. He had been smiling, but his smile faded.

"It's breakfast."

"I told you I wasn't hungry," I said, again not very nicely.

"And I told you I wasn't taking 'no' for an answer. What's going on?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Nothing. I just don't understand why I have to eat when I'm not hungry," I said, getting up and stomping out of the room. I was hoping he wouldn't follow. It was too much to hope for.

"Don't walk away from me… Sookie!" he called walking behind me. This was new to him. I was behaving as if I was having a fight with my brother. I'd never been like this with Eric. There had never been a reason. There wasn't a reason now, other than I was deranged. He caught my arm and turned me around, gently, minding the fact that I was still hurt. Always so mindful, always so gentle. Could I do it now? Could I break his heart? Or should I just pretend this was a silly fight because I was tired. No. I gathered my courage.

"I can't do this anymore Eric. You have to go," I said. This time I looked right into his blue eyes, and saw when all the light was drained from them. His hand let go of my arm as if he'd been shocked.

"You can't do what anymore? Love me?" he asked. _Ouch!_ My heart was screaming inside my chest.

"Look at what happened last night. I've already been accused of killing my husband, and wanting to kill you. Now you're being accused of beating me. What's next? No. I won't put you through that anymore," I said, and walked away.

He followed silently. I was pacing around my bedroom, thinking. I was trying to anticipate his arguments.

"Sookie… I didn't want to tell you anything yet, not until things were finalized. But it's obvious you need to know," he took a deep breath. I wanted to be antagonistic, shout something like _I need to know what?_ But I remained silent.

"I applied for a job at the university where my parents taught. They're about to make an offer. I'm not going to act anymore. It's not worth it… let me finish," he said, when he saw me open my mouth to argue. I wasn't expecting that! "If you and I married, we could live in England, be a family. Your parents could come visit us and stay for as long as they like, and we could come here and visit. There's no need for you to do this," the last part came out like a plea, in a whisper.

"What about everything you've worked for? Do you really think I'll take that away from you?" I asked. I was trying to infuse my tone with some kind of ire, but I was too stunned, and it came out whiny. _Ugh!_

"Everything I've worked for? I alienated my wife. Now I'm hurting you, and I've never loved anybody like I love you. This is not a sacrifice, believe me. I love making movies, but I hate everything else that goes with it. I can always do some stage work to satisfy my appetite for acting. That would be preferable to what all this," he gestured at the ceiling, "is doing to us! I don't want it. I don't want any of it, not without you," he took a step toward me. I couldn't move yet. My mind was conjuring up images of a life together forever.

I was so nervous that I was biting a nail. He grabbed that hand and kissed it. It brought back memories of the first time he'd done that, and I felt a shiver run through my body. He turned my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist. Meanwhile, his free hand had traced a path from my elbow to my neck, resting his thumb on my cheek. Suddenly he was there, his lips on mine. It was so quick that I didn't get a chance to think about what I had been trying to do. All I could think about was Eric, my world. My whole world.

His breath was hot on my face, and his lips were not soft. They were urgent, moving with mine, his tongue darting hungrily inside my mouth. I was undone. I couldn't refuse him anything when I wanted him so bad. I had forgotten the argument. There was no argument. He was the best debater, knowing exactly what to do to disarm his opponent. Except I wasn't his opponent, I was simply his.

"No," he said, gently taking my hands out from under his shirt, where they had squirreled their way to touch his bare skin. I was hurt. But he smiled, reading my expression without difficulty.

"Not right now. You have to eat breakfast. Then you have some dresses to try on. And then you and I are going on a date," he said, but he leaned in again and brushed his lips past mine. "After our date, if you still want me, we can make love all night long."

"I want you Eric. I want you forever, but I hate to see what I'm doing to you," I mumbled the last part.

"We're not talking about that anymore. You already know what I'm doing to remedy the situation. I'm happy with my decision. I'm hoping that you say yes to moving to England," I was about to say something, but he continued, "but I would rather you think about it for a little bit. I'm asking for a lot, and I wouldn't have asked at all if you had lived near your parents all the time. But you've been away before, so I'm sure you could handle it… IF you wanted to do it," he said. I was, again, about to say something, but his put his index finger on my lips.

"Breakfast time, please," he said after there was no danger of my speaking. I nodded.

I finally noticed what he had made me for breakfast: sunny side up eggs, toast with butter, corned beef hash, all my favorites. I sat down and he set a brand new cup of coffee in front of me. He was being entirely too good, better than I deserved after what I'd just done.

"So… where are we going for our date?" I asked, after we had started eating.

"I thought it would be a good idea to take the sailboat to the beach," he said, his mouth full. He was funny when he forgot his otherwise flawless manners.

"I don't know if I can swim that good, honey," I said, thinking of how far away from the beach he had to anchor the boat.

"Don't you worry. I'll take care of you," he said, smiled and winked, then shoveled some more food in his mouth. He must have been in a good mood, even after my behavior, for him to be so hungry. _I wonder what's up._

The shipment of dresses came after breakfast. There were ten of them; all still had their tags on. I looked at one and almost passed out.

"Thirteen HUNDRED dollars?" I yelled.

"What's the matter?" he asked, looking at the dress.

"This dress is thirteen hundred dollars!" I repeated.

"That's only 925 pounds. Come on, take off your clothes. You need to try these on," he said, helping me with my t-shirt.

"Are you insane? I can't afford any of these. It's twice my monthly mortgage," I said, my head stuck inside my t-shirt.

"You're not paying for these, darling. Besides, you're only keeping one or two, the rest are going back. Think of them as a gift," he said. He really wasn't being fair. He must have read my disapproval on my face. "You already own a thousand-dollar dress. The one you wore at the movie junket, remember?" he asked, helping me with my pants. If he thought that would calm me down, he was sorely mistaken.

"WHAT? I didn't know that!"

"That's because you weren't supposed to. It was a gift. These are gifts too, but some not-so-smart person forgot to take the tags off this one. Come on," Eric reached around me and unhooked my bra… then his hands lingered on my back, slowly making their way forward as he took off the straps. His eyes had zeroed in on my semi-naked body, and smiled a wicked smile.

"I shall resist," he said, willing himself to look away. I laughed.

He helped me with the dresses. Some were long gowns, others came mid-thigh. There were some pretty colors, but I decided that I didn't want to stand out TOO much. I chose a beautiful one-shoulder black dress, with ruching detail on the torso – to hide my bandage - but the best part is that it had a long slit along my left leg that reached all the way up my thigh.

"Oooh! That's dangerous," Eric said once I had it on.

"I need to call Chris. She has shoes tall enough for this," I said, looking down at my bare feet. The dress was supposed to trail a little, but it was still unbelievably long. I needed stilettos, and I didn't own any. But Chris did.

Eric helped me out of the dress and into my regular clothes. I sat on the bed and called my mom first to let her know about the date.

"Did you see the headline?" my mom asked at once, worried.

"I did. I'm surprised I hadn't heard from you," I said. It was nearly ten in the morning. I would have guessed she'd already read it.

"Jason told me what happened last night, so when I saw it this morning I wasn't too terribly surprised. I guess you can't have one without the other: fame without the gossip," she said. I heard a sigh. I also heard Eric walking to my kitchen to take a phone call on his cell. I was pretty sure it was his manager, Nancy, waking up in California and finally reading the gossip pages.

But right now I had other problems, like: _What exactly did Jason tell my parents?_ I decided to pretend I knew and didn't repeat anything, just moved the conversation along.

"You know that Eric would never hurt me," I said to her.

"Are you kidding? The way that man looks at you, the way he moves around you. I guess you don't notice. He is always aware of you. I'm sure you didn't need that bodyguard in New York. Eric could have done the job better than anybody, and for free," she said, snickering.

We wrapped up our conversation, and I saw Eric at my door. His face was sallow, and he held on to the door frame, looking at me wide eyed.

"What's wrong?" I asked, frowning, though I had a good idea.

"You read the story…" he mumbled, still at the door. I nodded, but my frown cleared.

"Why didn't you tell me? You keep things from me, why?" he asked, getting closer but still far. There could have been an abyss between us, and it wouldn't have felt as far as this distance.

"I wanted to spare you," I said looking down. I couldn't look at him now. I wasn't even sure if he was mad or sad. He was definitely upset.

"So instead of telling me about what's going on, you decide to spare me by taking yourself away from me? I don't get it," his voice deepened in pitch and rose in volume, and he started pacing. Okay, he was mad.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. And I WAS sorry. Now that he was mad about it, I wanted very much to not have said those words. Now that there was the possibility that he could take himself away from me, I understood. I finally understood what I'd done to him. I wanted to cry, but the fear I felt didn't let me. I froze in place, staring at my hands on my lap.

Eric moved slowly to kneel in front of me. I couldn't look at him, but he took my hands in his and squeezed them. Always so gentle with me. My stubborn tears decided to break through.

"Sookie Frances Stackhouse. Swear to me that you will never do that again. You have to tell me everything, everything!" he almost yelled at me. He'd never done that before and it made me jump a little. I still couldn't look at him.

"I swear," I said, my voice was thick with tears that had stuck in my throat. He raised his hand to my face, and wiped the tears off my cheeks, his hand making the circuit all the way down to my arm. Eric took a deep breath, and rested his head on my lap, still holding on to my hands.

"I didn't want to make you cry. You have to understand that you are mine as I am yours. We shouldn't have secrets. There shouldn't be anything that either of us can't tell the other. And if you love me, then you really shouldn't leave me, because I love you and I'm not going anywhere," he said, not moving an inch from the spot. I bent to rest on top of him, ignoring the sudden pain at my side. There were more important things than pain right now.

"I love you, so much" I said. This time I started sobbing. "I want to keep you safe, but I don't know how. I don't want to hurt you anymore."

"Nobody can hurt me but you. So please stop trying to leave me, please… You break my heart every time you say those words," he turned his face to kiss my hands. I straightened up, but this time the pain made me gasp a little.

"What have I done to you? I'm the one who should leave," he muttered, reaching a hand to my side and gently tracing a finger over the bandage. I shook my head. That was all I could manage other than a soft whine.

"But I won't Sookie. How could I? How could I hurt you in such a way? And where would I go, besides, since you are my home?" He took a deep breath, and his blue eyes held mine. He smiled weakly and wiped my tears again. This time he had reached for his handkerchief and used it instead of his fingers. Like the first time we met, I was mesmerized by him and stopped crying immediately. He was still kneeling in front of me, looking up.

"Your eyes are beautiful when you're not crying," he said. That made me smile a little, and my shyness made me look down, even though I should be used to Eric's compliments by now.

"Please look at me…" he whispered. I did look at him, how could I not?

"Are we going to be alright?" he asked. He was serious, holding on to my hands.

The question was laden with others that I wouldn't be able to answer right away. But of this much I was certain: I loved him. He loved me. We'd make it work. Somehow.

"Yes," I said, enunciating the word especially.

"Alright. Now get ready. We're leaving soon. Do you need help?" he asked getting up from the floor.

"Only when I come out of the shower, putting on my bandage," I said, getting up from the bed with his help. He caught me by the waist, and tenderly drew me to him. His free hand caressed my hair, rearranging a stray lock back into place. He looked at me with such deep devotion. I vaguely wondered if anybody – anybody in the world – had ever been loved the way Eric loved me.

He sent me off to shower and I tried to think about nothing at all. But the nagging thoughts were there, daring me to overlook them – which of course I couldn't. So, if Eric stopped making movies and started teaching, would he be happy? Worse, if he wasn't happy, would he resent me? I didn't have answers to those questions, of course. They would just be nagging me for the rest of my life, I supposed.

But, could I marry him and move to England? The answer, I knew it immediately, was a resounding yes. Even my heart skipped a beat imagining how our life would be. Everything would be so much different with Eric than it had been with Bill. It was already different.

**TBC**


	15. When You Wish Upon a Star

**A/N: **It took me a while longer than I wanted, but here's the new chapter. Thank you ALL for being patient. I was running around with the kids in AAD, getting them in trouble over there, so I apologize for the delay.

I have nothing written after this chapter other than the ending (and even that is iffy), so your reviews will help guide my next steps… *hint, hint*

* * *

**Chapter 15 – When You Wish Upon a Star**

_He sent me off to shower and I tried to think about nothing at all. But the nagging thoughts were there, daring me to overlook them – which of course I couldn't. So, if Eric stopped making movies and started teaching, would he be happy? Worse, if he wasn't happy, would he resent me? I didn't have answers to those questions, of course. They would just be nagging me for the rest of my life, I supposed._

_But, could I marry him and move to England? The answer, I knew it immediately, was a resounding yes. Even my heart skipped a beat imagining how our life would be. Everything would be so much different with Eric than it had been with Bill. It was already different._

I came out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around me. There was no reason for me to feel shy around Eric anymore, but I didn't like walking naked into a room. Nevertheless, he always managed to look at me with hungry eyes whenever I was semi-naked. Like now, for instance. He'd been waiting for me to come out of the shower, but he seemed to have just walked back in the bedroom. He appraised me top to bottom and moved swiftly to my side. I noticed he was sweating.

"What were you doing?" I asked curious. He started to take off my towel, but didn't answer. He ran his fingers over my breasts, and was about to bend to kiss them when I cleared my throat.

"Um…" he paused, still looking intently at my breasts. _Boys!_ "Um… I was putting some things in the boat, food and stuff," he said, finally looking at me in the eyes. His left hand remained on my breast, however, and his right made a trail down to my secret spot. His touch made me gasp and he smiled. He didn't continue, and I was a little disappointed.

"Think of how much you will want me tonight," he whispered in my ear.

"I always want you," I said, walking away to find underwear.

"But tonight is the first real date we've had in a month or so. Tonight is special," he said.

I packed my one-piece and sunscreen in a bag. Apparently I didn't need to worry about towels or anything of the sort. We headed out into the perfectly calm water of the canal. The engine of the sailboat was purring underneath, until we were well far away from the shallow ends and he hoisted the sails. Then everything was quiet. Eric had no trouble maneuvering the boat mostly by himself. He would leave me in charge of the wheel whenever he had to do something with the sails, and I was certainly more than qualified to do that job.

We arrived at the beach and, it being a weekday, it was deserted. It was also almost noon and I was hungry. We anchored the boat – another task I was happy to help with – and made sandwiches.

"So… how's your mom?" I asked. I was trying to ask questions about the job in England, and figured this would lead nicely into it.

"She's good. Anxious to meet you," he said, and winked.

"Why is she anxious? Aren't I supposed to be the one who's anxious?" I asked. He smiled.

"I meant she wants to meet you soon, really soon. 'Dying to meet you' would have been a better statement," he said. He studied my expression for a short minute. True, I was a little apprehensive, but that was only because I'd had a bad experience with my previous mother-in-law. I was sure this time would be different. For one, Eric's mother was a smart woman: a former English professor at a British university. For another, Eric always said she wanted to get to know me very much. That was a good sign, I supposed.

"And she was a professor of English…" I prompted. I already knew this part, but I wanted to make him talk more about his own new job.

"Yes, until she retired…" he said, using my same tone.

"I know that," I said. I didn't want him to think I wouldn't remember that. "I guess I want to know what your dad did," I said. He was obviously not catching on very quickly.

"My dad was a psychology professor," he said. He didn't talk too much about his dad. I did know he had died of a stroke, quite unexpectedly, and relatively young. Maybe that was the reason for the silence.

"And, so, you graduated with a Bachelor's in English," I kept prompting.

"The equivalent, yes. And a Master's too," he said. But the last part was mumbled.

"You've never told me that," I said looking at him with one raised eyebrow. I was surprised at this new information. "And is that what you would teach if you get the job?" I asked, finally getting to the point.

"Yes," he answered simply, smiling at me.

"Will you like it?" I asked. I made a face, but he only smiled wider.

"I guess I haven't been very fair to you. You don't know a lot about my past, huh?" he asked shaking his head, mirroring my own actions.

"I was a professor's assistant while I worked on my Master's. I liked it. But while I was acting in school I got discovered, so to speak. I did some theatre in London and got discovered again. I was very lucky in that regard. Some people work their butts off until they catch a break, and some just fall into it. But my original intention was always to teach," he said, as he started clearing the plates. I would have to ascertain the veracity of his story, but for now I felt better about his decision.

We changed into our bathing suits, me with a little help, and he smeared sunscreen on me. Per usual, he was about to run away without any when I caught him and put some on him as well.  
"Why are you always so adamant about the sunscreen? I don't mind a little color, you know," he said a little peeved.

"I don't care what you mind and don't mind. The sun in Florida hits harder than where you are from. I rather smear you with sunscreen now than with lotion later because you're in pain. Have you seen the color of your skin? So you'll just humor me," I said as I started on his chest.

"I've been humoring you all this time. You're like the sunscreen queen. I can't say no or you'd have my head," he laughed and I laughed too.

"Pretty much," I finished. Eric surprised me by pulling me close and bending to kiss me. The kiss was soft and sweet, the kind that I loved the best. I breathed him in, and felt my heart expand within my chest. He pulled away, to look at me.

"Thank you for taking care of me," he said. His eyes sparkled with sincerity. I smiled.

"Of course I take care of you. You take care of me," I told him. Eric gave me a wide grin, a contagious one.

"Let's go," he said, pulling me by the hand out of the boat's master bedroom where we had been changing. The inside of the boat was very nice and cool (thanks to a generator) compared to the hot humidity from outside. Eric closed the hatch carefully to keep the cool air inside, and we made our way to the back of the boat, to the platform. Eric jumped in first, after helping me sit with my legs in the water.

"Ok, sweetheart. Use the ladder and I'll catch you. We'll try swimming, but if it's too painful I have another idea." He swam to the ladder, and I used it to lower myself into the water. I tried swimming a little, and it wasn't too painful. I just had to take it easy.

Eric kept pace with me, and we eventually made it to the shallow end. He stood up when he could and helped me hug myself to him.

"Hi," he said, smiling hugely. "Don't I know you from somewhere, I never forget a face," he said teasing, running a finger from my temple to my jaw, and over to my mouth. I kissed it and then smile.

"I think we met that one time, way back when you came to my concert," I said, following the little joke.

"No… that's not it. You look a lot like my neighbor, the crazy one who growls at her garden," he said, and I laughed. That seemed like such a long time ago. He was laughing along with me. It was so nice to hear him laugh. Lately I hadn't heard his laughter often enough for my tastes.

"You must have me confused. I'm the crazy one who was checking you out at three in the morning while you were swimming in your pool," I said, chuckling.

"Oh! So the secret is out. You _were_ checking me out," this time he guffawed and snickered. I was so surprised at his reaction that all I could do was stare at him. Was he having the giggles? Apparently yes, because when he saw my expression he started laughing even harder. Per usual, anything that involved Eric smiling (or laughing) was contagious. I started laughing with him. It felt so good. I hugged him tight to me and put my head on his shoulder, still laughing along with him. I could hear his laughter within his chest. We both shook with it. It felt good to know that, in spite of everything we'd gone through, we were still deliriously happy to be with each other.

"Sookie…" he said my name softly after we calmed down. It had taken several minutes. I looked up at him and he was still smiling, like me. "Does your name have a meaning?" he asked me, tilting his head.

"I don't know. I think my parents were having a hippie moment when they named me," I said. His question was a little amusing to me. I'd always thought my parents had picked my name during either a hippie moment, or an epidural-induced high.

"And Frances?"

"It's a family name. My grandmother's name, my mom's mom, was Frances, her father's name was Francis, and so on," I answered him. "Tell me more about how you grew up," I said to him.

He told me everything. Suddenly he became an open book. He had always been so guarded before. Eric had gone to private schools until he was in middle school (or the U.S. equivalent, he said). Then he went to boarding school. I would have been miserable, but he spoke of it with fondness, reminiscing. He played tennis, badly, and had tried track and field but wasn't very fast. He still enjoyed running, so he took up running as his exercise of choice. He went to school where his parents taught, and was taught by them which (he said) was not as awkward as one would think.

"Neither cut me any slack, though. I think they were tougher on me than on the rest of the students," he said chuckling.

"In what play were you performing when they discovered you?" I asked.

"In school, it was Shakespeare. 'The Taming of the Shrew.' I always had fun reading that one, so when the opportunity presented itself, I auditioned. It was one of a very few auditions I've ever done in my life. I guess my looks count for something in Hollywood," he said shrugging.

"Yes, I agree that you're handsome beyond reason, but you also act very well. Trust me, I'm an expert," I said, and he started laughing again.

"Alright, my little Ebert. Now is my turn. Tell me more about how you grew up," he demanded.

"I went to public school in Louisiana, from kindergarten to high school. I was shy – big shock, I know – so I didn't really date or go out. Then I started going to Louisiana State, and I was so busy with school that… I didn't really date or go out," I said and stopped. Eric's face had taken an incredulous look.

"Nobody asked you out? I don't really believe that," he said shaking his head a little.

"Some did, but I refused. In college I was so focused. I enjoyed going to class, doing homework, mingling with classmates. But that was it. I didn't want to get involved in dating and all that. I did graduate 'summa cum laude.' My parents were beside themselves. After I started working, I started dating a little. Nothing was serious, until I met Bill," I stopped again and went back to my high school days.

"In high school I did join the chorus… one voice of many. The teacher gave me one solo, but I never asked for another. I'm not coordinated enough for sports, I'm afraid, so I didn't play any…"

"You swim very well," interrupted Eric.

"That would have been great if my school had a swim team. They only played soccer, football, baseball, and track and field. It was all very boring to me, ordinary. I didn't even bother attending games. We used to travel a lot as a family, as you know, during our summer breaks. We've been to Cape Cod, the Grand Canyon, Niagara Falls, Disney World, Williamsburg, Washington D.C., Puerto Rico as you know, Myrtle Beach… I'm sure I'm forgetting some places. Some we did twice. That was the best part of trudging through school and life: looking forward to the trips."

"Is that why you don't mind traveling with me?" asked Eric. By now he was rubbing my legs, which were wrapped around his waist under the water.

"I do like to travel a lot. It gives me a deadline, something to plan for and be excited about. As soon as one trip is done, I start looking forward to something else. I even enjoy my time on airplanes. It gives me a chance to read, and I like looking out the window," I said.

We stared into each other's eyes for a long time. I was mesmerized, as I often was, by Eric's eyes: their color and depth. Today they were green, like the water around us. His hair had dried and it was shining almost yellow in the sun.

"My hair used to be almost white, when I was a baby," I said, by way of nothing.

"Our babies will be blond as well," he said, and leaned in to kiss me. My heart skipped a beat at his mention of babies. I wasn't scared about the prospect, on the contrary. I was ecstatic.

We played in the water for so long, that our fingertips and toes were wrinkled like prunes, and even our palms and feet. We started laughing again as we dried, but I stopped abruptly. Eric caught on immediately and stared at me, his face somber, watching me.

I stared out the side of the boat. In the water, two giant gray shapes were approaching us. The water was so clear, that I knew exactly what they were at once. Eric had followed my gaze and had seen them too.

"Are they dolphins?" he asked.

"Nope. Manatees…" I whispered, leaning over the side of the boat only a little bit. He did the same. And then, miracle of miracles, they emerged to take a breath not ten feet from the boat. Their faces looked gentle, and I noticed with great satisfaction that both their backs were soft and supple, untouched by engine blades unlike so many others I'd seen. The manatees changed course and went back in the direction of the brackish water of the canals.

"You said I'd see one, I never imagined two," said Eric, still leaning over trying to see them.

"It's probably a mom and her older calf. I've never seen them in pairs before," I said, not that I was an expert in manatees, but it seemed to make sense. The fact that they steered clear of our boat, rather than try to go under it, could explain why they hadn't been harmed. A little miracle. An unscathed part of God's world, and a sign that things could turn out beautiful and good.

I stared at Eric. Sometimes he reminded me of a little kid. At that moment his fascination with the noble creatures that had graced us with their presence, lit his eyes and brought a wide smile to his face. I was a few steps away, arms akimbo, just enjoying him. He looked at me, wanting to share the moment. That simple gesture made my heart soar, and I returned his smile. He closed the distance and wrapped his arms around me. I put my hands on his shoulders, unable to look away from his face.

"Go take a shower while I start dinner," he suggested.

"We're staying here?" I asked.

"Yes. All night. Your father said it would be safe if I ran two anchors, so I did," he shrugged.

"So I'm your prisoner," I said. It wasn't a question. I was only teasing. I was quite glad to be anywhere with Eric.

"Yes. But I promise your sentence will be very pleasant," he said as he stroked my hair.

There was only one kind of shower on a boat: the quick kind. I washed my hair as best as I could, thanking the heavens that I had decided to part with most of it months ago. I wasn't finished in the shower when Eric stuck his head in.

"I left your clothes on the bed. I forgot to tell you this is a formal dinner, so I did you the favor of packing something suitable. Love you!" and he left. I was suddenly nervous. I wondered what he was up to.

After I dried I looked inside the small cabinets in the bathroom, hoping to find deodorant, at least, and was happy to find brand new toiletries of the same brands I always used… and, tucked in a special shelf with a ribbon on it, my favorite perfume still in its box. _Huh!_ I wrapped myself in the towel and stepped outside. The smell of onions and peppers met me. Whatever he was cooking smelled very yummy. I inhaled.

"The only problem is," he said when he heard me come out, his back to me working in the kitchen, "that you're going to have to watch this for me while I take my shower and get ready. I couldn't think of a better way to do this part, I'm sorry," he said, now turning to me. He had an unmistakable look of chagrin on his face.

"I can do that. We're a team," I said smiling, and went in the bedroom.

On the bed was a pretty summer dress, white with lace. It wasn't formal at all, but it was better than shorts and a t-shirt. The shoes for it were on the floor. I looked closely and they were boat shoes, but a new design. Very pretty. The whole outfit was very cute. I liked it.

"This is beautiful Eric," I called out.

"I didn't pick it. Your mom did. She helped me," he was closer than I thought, at the door to the bedroom rather than in the kitchen. "Here, my love; let me help you," he said, gently taking off my towel, and putting on my bandage. "Not that you don't look ravishing naked… But let's pretend this part didn't happen. As soon as I'm clean we'll be officially on a date," he said, still helping me with the rest of my clothes. I flinched a little. The busy day had me sore, though I wasn't hurting as much as I thought I would. He zipped the dress and brushed my hair aside to reveal the back of my neck. I felt his breath on my skin and closed my eyes. He brushed his lips back and forth where my neck met my shoulders. The feeling sent goose bumps down my arms. And then he stopped. I noticed I had been holding my breath, and I let it out in a disappointed puff.

"We have all night," he whispered in my ear, sending some more shivers running through. I sighed.

I manned the kitchen while he got ready. There was really nothing for me to do. The steaks were in the small oven, the salad was ready in the fridge, and the rice would be ready at about the same time as the steaks. Everything smelled very good. I peeked in the freezer and there were two pints of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia, our favorite.

I chuckled remembering the first time he had tasted that flavor. Eric wasn't usually one for sweets, but I certainly was, and lately he'd been eating everything in sight so I knew he wouldn't turn it down. I sat down with him one night, to watch a movie, and brought a pint of Cherry Garcia and two spoons. At first he said no, but I managed to have him try it. By the time he was done "trying it" he'd eaten three quarters of it. From then on we always had a pint handy, to share.

I saw Eric run from the bathroom to the bedroom, naked. My heart skipped a beat, but it was actually more funny than sexy. He was smiling himself, like he was doing something naughty. But when he emerged a few minutes later, he looked radiant. He was wearing a long pair of dark gray pants, the kind that belong to a suit, and a light blue dress shirt. I even made out the collar of a white t-shirt underneath. His hair was brushed back and he smelled delicious. I suddenly remembered how devastatingly handsome he truly was. In the day to day of hot weather, shorts, t-shirts and sneakers, I tended to forget what I had seen in him the first day we had met. I had loved him for himself for so long, that the physical part was icing on the cake. At that moment, however, his physique was very much the cake. I blamed it on the rollercoaster of a day that we'd had, and how many times we had come so close to making love, only for him to stop with promises of a long night.

Eric noticed my wide-eyed study of his person, and interpreted it as something different.

"Do I look bad?" he asked, looking down at himself.

"No! You caught me staring," I said sheepishly.

"You do that a lot."

"You're a very beautiful man," I said, looking away.

"And you are a very beautiful woman, who is right now supposed to be sitting down at the table," he said, taking my hands and making me sit at the booth.

Eric served dinner, dimmed some lights, and turned on a couple of votives on the table. He poured us some wine and lifted his glass. I copied him.

"To us," he said simply.

"To us," I repeated, and we clinked our glasses.

I had been so mesmerized by him, that only then I noticed he had turned on some soft background music.

"Thank you, honey. This is very romantic," I said to Eric, reaching across the table to touch his hand. He put his hand palm up as mine approached, and caught mine in his. He brought it up to his face, my palm on his cheek, and held it there. He closed his eyes and smiled. Such simple words had made him so happy…

"I have a surprise for you, but you have to stay here for a few minutes," he said after dinner, knowing full well I wouldn't move an inch while I waited patiently for my surprise.

"Do you want me to do dishes while I wait?" I asked.

"Absolutely not! You can't be doing dishes on our date, Sookie," he said with a sigh of exasperation. "Just sit here, looking gorgeous, and I'll be right back," he said, and then he pointed a finger at me to make sure I understood that he meant business.

"Yes, dear," I said rolling my eyes. We both smiled and he left. I sipped the last of my wine listening to the pretty music, and he was back about two songs later.

Eric took my hands without a word. His face was alight with some strange kind of emotion that I couldn't pinpoint. It was a mix of happiness and anticipation. Maybe the fact that he was about to surprise me had made the difference. His smile widened as he led me through the hatch. I looked up and spied the stars, bright in the sky here so far away from civilization, and another golden glow coming from nearby. I gasped as I realized what had made the golden glow: Eric had lit a myriad of votives, and placed them on every flat surface of the boat. I shook my head in disbelief.

The music was slightly louder up here, not in the background anymore, but still soft. Eric kept leading me to the stern, where he stopped. He brought me close to him and he led our dance. In as long as we had been together, we had never danced. He led me gracefully, twirling me effortlessly. I was enjoying it immensely. I couldn't remember the last time I had danced with a partner. He wasn't really keeping time with the music, until a particularly beautiful song started. We stopped twirling at once, and he brought me even closer, melding our bodies together. I moved my hand from his shoulder to his neck, where I could stroke his hair with my fingertips. I looked into his eyes, almost black in the dim light. He looked at me in the same way.

He brought his lips to mine, softly and hesitantly, as if this were our first kiss all over again. Eric kept leading the dance, and we kept kissing. I opened my eyes, and his eyes were open too, still kissing, kissing. He smiled when he stopped, our lips and faces too close and yet too far. I smiled too, and breathed him in, his scent, separate and distinct from his cologne. He kissed my nose then, making me close my eyes, and then he kissed the edge of my eyelids, a gentle kiss on each one. His hands had moved to my face, his thumbs caressing my cheeks. My hands had found their way to his back. Suddenly he was gone.

I opened my eyes in surprise, but he wasn't far. He was still right in front of me, a hand in his pocket. In one swift move, he extracted a tiny red box from his pocket, and knelt in front of me. Both my hands flew to cover my mouth involuntarily.

"Sookie Frances Stackhouse. I love you so much, so much," he took a deep ragged breath, and I did too. "Will you marry me? Will you be my wife?" he asked as he opened the box. But I didn't see the ring inside. I was still looking at his face; tears had started to brim from the corners of his eyes.

I started nodding, but knew that just would not do at all.

"Yes! Yes!" I was able to say, finally, and threw my arms out to him, not waiting until he got back up and kneeling beside him. I hugged myself to him so tightly that his arms were still trapped between us. I heard him chuckle in my ear.

"Don't you want your ring?" he asked softly.

"No," I said, shaking my head, but I laughed and let him go.

We were still on the floor. Eric lifted the box so I could see the ring. It was a beautiful round diamond, set simply on a gold band, held by six prongs. But the size… It was really too much.

"My mother's ring. She wanted YOU to have it," he said, emphasizing that it was for me, and meaning that nobody else had owned it other than his own mom. He took it out of its box and slipped it onto my finger. It was a perfect fit.

"I haven't even spoken to your mom yet," I muttered, searching his expression.

"She knows all about you. But most importantly, she knows how happy you have made me. I love you so much Sookie… Please tell me you like the ring," he said, and his look turned pleading.

"I love the ring. I love you more Eric," I kissed him, just as gently as he had kissed me while we danced. "I love you," I whispered against his lips.

He caught me then, and kissed me in earnest. He had one hand on my waist, and another on my back, holding me very close and bending me backwards as he leaned forward. I held onto him, clasping my hands tightly behind him. I wasn't about to let him go. He finally straightened us and got both of us off the floor.

My hands still clasped behind his back, and his hands safely behind my waist, we swayed to the music a little longer. The ring on my finger didn't feel uncomfortable or alien. It felt like it belonged there, or that it had always been there. I rested my face on his chest and closed my eyes. I concentrated on his heartbeat and his breathing. I felt his face rest on my hair.

"Sookie, look!" he gasped, suddenly turning me around and pointing at the sky. Sure enough: a shooting star.

"Quick, make a wish" I ordered, and closed my own eyes.

I felt his arms close in around my chest in a soft embrace. At the same time one of my favorite songs started playing, and I couldn't resist singing along. I opened my eyes and stared at the sky, singing for Eric alone, feeling his warmth. When the song was over, he turned me around. His expression was one of awe, which I wasn't expecting. He'd heard me sing a little bit more often lately, albeit with the band.

"What, honey?" I asked, making my tone gentle.

"I didn't know it would work, but I wished anyway, and my wish came true instantly," he said. This time a smile started to form, but his eyes were still wide, marveling.

"What did you wish for?"

"I wished to have you sing for me forever and ever, and you did!" Eric answered, and this time he brought me in for a bear hug.

We danced for a few more songs, until one song made us kiss again. That kiss undid us. The candles had burned out, so we stumbled towards the hatch in darkness. Eric closed it behind us, and turned off all the lights inside the main cabin. It was still very bright in the bedroom.

I was the first to seize hold of his shirt to start undoing buttons. I undid his belt and took off his trousers. All the while he had unzipped my dress and it was now lying on the floor, along with my underwear. He helped me with the rest of his clothes. I descended on his chest the minute it was bare. I just wanted to kiss him and make him mine. His hands roamed every inch of my skin, sending little shock waves all the way to my fingertips. I brought his face down to mine. I couldn't get enough of his lips, his mouth. My intentions of being in charge went out the window when the picked me up and laid me on the bed. But I didn't fuss.

Eric lied down beside me, and started tracing patterns on my skin using only the tips of his fingers. I immediately got goose bumps everywhere, and got that familiar feeling that I was turning into chocolate pudding inside. I wanted him so badly that I started to turn to him, to make him mine, but he stopped me, gently pushing my shoulder back onto the bed.

"I want you" I whispered, pleading. He ran his fingers all the way down to touch my little nub and made me catch my breath.

"I know you do," he whispered in my ear. His fingers were still teasing, going around and around my pleasure center, and I started shaking under his touch. "Come on, sweetheart, let it out," he demanded in a whisper. I had no choice but to obey. My low long moan filled the bedroom, until there was nothing left. I started to feel empty, but he took pity on me and was inside me shortly after. He was trying his best not to hurt me and kept himself aloft, so I had to pull him down to me. I felt his weight on me, his lips on me, his hands on me.

The thought took a while to form while I was feeling overwhelmed. Eventually I realized that he had just pledged his undying love for me, and I for him. Making love to him like this was going to be part of my life forever. The sudden realization shook me to my core. I held him tighter against me and started crying. It was involuntary. I had cried once before after making love, but never during.

Eric immediately took notice, and almost took himself from me, probably thinking he was hurting me. But I held him tight.

"What's wrong? What's wrong, my love?" he asked, unable to leave me he settled for holding me closer as well.

"Nothing. I'm so happy. I don't know why I'm crying, I'm so stupid," I said shaking my head. He kissed my wet cheeks and started chuckling. I started laughing with him.

"So long as you're happy," he said.

He did manage to leave me and sat on the bed, beckoning to me with a finger. I went to him and sat on his lap facing him. He was inside me again, but I was in charge. I put my hands on his broad shoulders and enjoyed my control over him. His face was buried in my chest, and for the first time ever he began to moan with excitement. That sent my senses reeling out of control and I exploded with a wild gasp, at the same time that he burst inside me, his familiar growl replaced by something more feral, primal. He shook, his need spent, as I trembled with aftershocks.

Eventually we were able to let go of each other long enough to lie down. Eric even managed to get us under the blankets. We stared at each other for a long time before I found my voice.

"Do my parents know?" I asked, caressing the ring with my thumb.

"Yes. I told them my plans, all of them, and I told them I would ask you to marry me. They want you to be happy, though I think they will be sad when you leave." He pushed my hair behind my ear. "Will you be okay leaving them?"

I thought about it briefly. I'd been thinking about it all day long. "As long as we can visit and they can visit, it will be fine. I'm sure I'll find something to occupy my time in between."

"I want us to start a family after we marry. Is that something you want?" he asked, searching for the answer in my eyes.

"With all my heart," I answered immediately.

I closed my eyes, feeling sleepy and happy. Once again I tried to imagine what my life would be like married to Eric, living in England, having a family of my own. All the bad stuff was nothing. It was a small price to have paid if it meant I got to keep him.

**TBC**


	16. One More Time, With Feeling

**A/N: **As you all know, chapter 15 was the last I had written. I apologize for delaying this one, but I actually had to "work" on it… plus I've been having too much fun over in AAD messing with the witches and Bill... and a honeymoon...

No witches here and Bill's already dead… so we'll just have us some good ol' fashioned romance, K?

And for being sooo patient, how 'bout a lemon right off the bat? Hmm?

* * *

**Chapter 16 – One More Time, With Feeling**

"Are you nervous?" Eric asked me as a limo drove us to a theatre in downtown L.A. I'd never been to L.A. before. Everyone looked so… fake. Fake blond hair, fake blue eyes, fake unwrinkled skin, fake tans, fake nails, fake fake fake.

"Very," I answered him, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. I was wearing my brand new dress, and I had borrowed a pair of Chris' shoes that made me feel like I would fall at any moment. I'd found myself leaning heavily on Eric as we walked from our hotel room to the waiting limo.

"Come here," he said, caressing my neck before pulling me to him. He laid several open mouthed kisses on my neck and my bare shoulder, making my heart speed up considerably. I was nearly breathless with the attention. Just when I thought he would pull away, he did nothing of the sort. Eric cupped my breast over the dress, running his thumb where he knew the nipple would be. Even over the fabric of the dress and the bra I felt his touch.

"Eric we can't do this here," I said in the lowest voice I could manage. Thankfully the partition had been up the whole time between the driver and us.

"Yes we can," he breathed into my chest. "Traffic is awful. It's going to take us a while."

With that he disappeared. He was kneeling in front of me, cupping my bottom to bring it to him, lifting my skirt and caressing my legs. "This is not going to make me less nervous," I breathed. He was already kissing a trail through the inside of my thigh.

"Yes it will," he breathed into my panties, reaching for them and pulling them down. "Just try to be quiet my love," and with that he began to lick a path down through my very core.

I gasped in shock before giving myself over to the feeling. Eric could do whatever he wanted with me, and right now his main endeavor was to make me have an orgasm in the middle of a busy California highway. I wound my fingers into his hair and held him tight, shaking in pure pleasure and trying to contain a moan. His tongue darted in and out of me, and then it was replaced by a finger while his lips closed around my little nub. He knew my body, he knew what to do to make me scream, or gasp or moan, and he was doing it all… and I was holding it all in.

Eric took himself away before finishing what he started. "What?" I asked, looking up.

"I can't, I can't," he said, undoing his belt and pulling his pants down. He looked hard and ready, and let out a sigh of relief as he entered me.

It was all his fault, I told myself. I couldn't say no to him, and he knew it, so if he wanted to have sex in a limo that was exactly what we were going to do. He leaned over me, holding his shirt up with one hand, and holding himself up with the other. I held onto his hips, enjoying the way his muscles moved under my fingers. His eyes never left mine, except to look down at my lips, while he pumped inside me in a quick steady pace. He started breathing harder, bearing his teeth in a grimace, trying to hold himself back… I had to close my eyes as the orgasm he'd worked for overtook me. I'd held my breath so that I wouldn't make noise, and as I began to pant for breath Eric trembled and came too. He buried himself deep, deeper, deepest with each of his final strokes, until finally he had no more to give.

I moved my hands up to his face and caressed him. He collapsed over me in slow motion, putting his head on my shoulder without taking himself out of me. I enjoyed these few minutes of bliss, feeling relaxed, loved, whole. Maybe Eric did know what he was doing.

"I love you so much Sookie. I'm sorry, I couldn't stop myself," he said, planting a few soft kisses on my overheated skin, and threading a hand under my bottom, to hold my hips tight against his. "You're so beautiful, you smell so good, you're so beautiful…"

"You said that twice," I said giggling a little. "I love you too Eric, or we wouldn't have done this."

"So when you stop having sex with me inside limos I'll know you don't love me anymore," Eric concluded.

"Exactly," I said, and giggled some more. I couldn't help being giddy around him.

He looked up to give me one of his most gorgeous smiles. "Then I shall strive to make you fall in love with me over and over for the rest of our lives."

I smiled with him. It really wouldn't take much for him to make me fall in love with him over and over again. All he had to do was continue saying things like that to me, making love to me, care for me… pretty much the same things he did every day. How in the world did I ever think I could live without him?

We cleaned up and looked presentable once more, just in time to see the theatre in the distance. Ours was only one in a whole line of limos, as his costars and other famous people made their way inside past the throng of fans and press. I double checked all my makeup and hair, and even had time to brush Eric's hair back into the perfect ponytail he'd been wearing before our little interlude.

When it was our turn to get out of the car, Eric did it first and then helped me. He did it as a gentlemanly thing, not because I was still hurting from my injury. I was sore, but okay. I was immediately blinded by all the camera flashes going off, but had the wherewithal to keep my smile firmly in place. Eric threaded my arm through his and walked at a leisurely pace. We were supposed to pose for pictures at a few different intervals, and in our hotel room we had rehearsed different poses. That had been purely for my benefit, since I felt less nervous if I already knew what I was going to do. Eric also told me to be prepared if a reporter or two asked me questions.

Sure enough, some girl from E! approached me with a microphone. "Have you seen the movie?" she asked without preamble.

"Yes I have," I answered, hoping my smile looked genuine and not nervous.

"Did you like it?" she pressed.

"Yes I did, I liked it very much. The cast is phenomenal and they have a great chemistry together," I answered. I'd already known what to say, and it had all been my idea. I'd gotten Eric's blessing of course, although it was a standard answer.

"I hear you guys are getting married. Have you set a date?" the girl asked Eric.

I'd barely had a chance to form the question in my mind – _when and where did they hear we're getting married?_ – when Eric answered the E! girl's question without missing a beat. "We're getting married next year in Scotland!" he said beaming.

Wow! Who knew I was getting married next year in Scotland? Because that was news to me. I played along and beamed right back at him. We had barely begun talking about dates, let alone places.

The E! girl congratulated us and moved on to the next Hollywood movie star coming behind us. We posed for a picture, then another, and finally made it inside the theatre. Then we posed some more, this time with other cast members and their spouses or significant others, plus the odd fan who'd won the chance to be there. I stood aside for those.

I enjoyed watching the movie the second time around, though it was obvious that Eric's friskiness had not abated. Once in a while he would lean into me and whisper things in my ear, naughty things, or loving things. Each and every time his lips came close to my neck I felt my skin respond as if I were getting an electric shock. I hoped against hope that traffic would ease by the time we had to head back to the hotel, because I really wanted to just… um… take him. Maybe that was the whole purpose of getting me excited.

When we left, the only people outside were the guards and a few fans, stragglers. Their perseverance paid off, since the stars would pose for pictures and sign autographs while waiting for their cars to make it through the line. Eric was popular, so I kept my distance while he charmed, smiled, and catered to his fans. I wondered if he would miss the fans and the frenzy. Maybe he liked the attention.

The evening had turned out to be a success. On our way back to the hotel by the airport I felt calm. None of the reporters had asked or said anything bad or mean. All the famous people we'd met had been pleasant, or else didn't pay attention to us, which was fine by me. I felt ready for the premiere in London. Besides, we were getting to London a few days early so we could visit Eric's sister Pam, and staying a few days longer so we could also visit his mom in Scotland. I was excited about the trip.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Pam's bar was hopping, and that was an understatement. Eric found me an empty seat at the bar only because somebody was vacating it as we approached. The bartender, a woman, seemed to know Eric. She threw him a knowing look and flashed a smile before announcing to the crowd "Eric is here!"

The crowd responded with a roar, "Eric!" Everyone lifted their glasses and drank. They were all women, with a few exceptions. Very few exceptions. Too late I remembered Pam batted for the other team, or I could have kept my confused look completely at bay. Whoops! I rearranged my features quickly and smiled up at my husband-to-be. He was beaming.

"What will you have, love?" the bartender asked me. She was cute, with short black hair cut into a pretty bob. Not everyone looks good with that haircut, but she did.

I didn't want to order something too outrageous, but I hate beer, so I went with a tried and true. "Rum and Coke, please," I said.

She turned her head to Eric. "The same," he said.

She started working quickly with a practiced hand, when a short blonde approached us, standing across the bar with her hands on her hips. She was cute too, with long hair and large glacial blue eyes.

"Eric. You are late," she said.

"No I'm not," he said shaking his head. He was grinning from ear to ear.

"You are about three months late! I was supposed to meet Sookie WAY before now," her expression softened and she looked my way. "Hi! I'm Pam. It's so nice to finally meet you, no thanks to this big lug." She extended her hand across the bar and I shook it.

"I know what you mean," I smiled. I'd been wondering when he'd finally introduce me to his family. Surely we could have gotten some of the preliminaries done over the phone or on Skype. "My pleasure."

Pam ran around the bar, sounding giddy. Eric crouched and held his arms open, and Pam ran into them for the hug. They held each other tight for a long moment, before Pam let go and started wiping her cheeks with her hand. Eric did what he always did: took out his handkerchief and offered it to his sister.

"She's been like that ever since she learned you guys are getting married," piped up the bartender.

"Shush, Amelia! No need to tell _everybody_ I'm a weeping cow when it comes to my brother," she said looking at me. I'd found myself wanting to console her somehow, and had started rubbing her upper arm. "I'm not usually like this, I swear. It's so good to see him happy," she said and shed a few more tears, which she quickly mopped up with the handkerchief.

"Don't sweat it. I won't tell a soul," I said and stood up from the stool to put my arm over her shoulders. Even though I'd just met Pam, she evoked the same types of feelings in me as Eric did. It was as if I'd known her forever. She didn't pull away. In fact, she returned the half hug with her free arm.

"Come on, bring your drinks," she sniffled. Eric took both our drinks and we walked to the back of the bar, into a long hallway past the restrooms, and to Pam's office.

"Pam, your place is amazing. No wonder you're always so busy," I said the minute we entered her office.

The bar had a certain kind of… persona, I wanted to say, though that wasn't right. It was a feeling. The walls had been painted black, but everything else was red. The music had been playing loud enough to hear it, but not too loud that you couldn't hear anything else. Nevertheless, it wasn't the décor or the ambience. It was the people in it. The way they had greeted Eric, and then gave Pam room so she could cry with her family in peace. Not your typical barroom behavior.

"Thank you. So, how long are you guys here for, and are you going to see Mum?" Pam looked back and forth between Eric and me as she asked her question.

"The premiere is the day after tomorrow, and the day after we're getting a car and driving up," Eric answered.

"Absolutely not," Pam made a motion with her hands to stop Eric's thought in its tracks. "We'll take my car and we'll drive up together. Where are you staying?"

Eric gave her all the particulars of our hotel, including our room number so she could come have breakfast with us the next day.

Pam started an embarrassing conversation about some Christmas sweaters – she'd called them jumpers, and Eric had to translate – they'd all gotten when they were teenagers. They'd been a gift from Eric's favorite aunt, but Pam wanted to burn them. And she had, much to Eric's chagrin. When their aunt found out, she hadn't spoken to Pam for two years.

I realized that there was much more about Eric's family that I didn't know. Pretty much all my family consisted of my parents and my brother. Eric seemed to have a whole extended family he'd forgotten to tell me about. I thought that was pretty strange of him. How could he not tell me? What was there to hide?

In the hotel I decided to grill him. "What's the name of your aunt?"

"Which aunt?"

"You have more than one," I said. It wasn't a question. I was truly upset.

"Yes. My dad had two sisters, and my mom has one."

"Why didn't you tell me about your family?" I said, following him around our room. He was trying to be evasive and had moved from the living room part of the suite to the bedroom.

"There's not much to tell. I have aunts and uncles, grandparents. You know my sister…" his voice drifted as he started taking off clothes.

"What do you mean there's not much to tell? You have a whole family that I don't know about. What's going on? Don't you want me to meet them, or is it that you don't want them to meet me?" I asked, my heart breaking at my last question. God only knew what they'd think of me.

Eric cringed. "Neither of those. Calm down, Sookie, please."

I did notice that my voice had come out loud. "I'll calm down when you explain."

"I don't want them to… I… Shit! I don't know, Sookie. I don't want them to talk about Carrie in front of you," he said, standing up and running his hands through his hair.

"Well, that's a silly reason not to at least tell me about them. Besides, I'm a grown woman. I think I can handle talk of Carrie just fine. Have you thought about that?"

He walked to me and grabbed me by the shoulders. He didn't do it hard. He just wanted me to stay still while he spoke. "I've been on the verge of losing you twice already. I don't want to go for three. If I made a mistake I sincerely apologize, but the thought of losing you is unbearable."

I lifted an eyebrow and brought my left hand up slowly between us, ring facing him. He looked down and smiled a sad smile. "I have no plans of going anywhere," I said.

"I know, darling. I'll tell you everything and introduce you to everyone. Will you forgive me?" he asked, fixing me with his fathomless blue eyes.

"Yes, just… please… tell me things, okay? You've been doing that a lot, like when you didn't tell me about the job at the university. I understand you wanted it to be a surprise, but it would have been nice to know from the get go."

"Okay," he said simply and brought me close for a hug. His heart was beating hard and fast within his chest, which made me wonder what else he wasn't telling me.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Pam spent the next morning with us. First we had breakfast in our room, and then, knowing my affinity for museums, but not wanting to take me to one after the last time, Eric and Pam arranged for us to go to Kew Gardens. It was almost impossible for Eric to dress down or look different than who he was, simply because his size and long hair gave him away.

"You should cut your hair," Pam commented. We had piled into her Volvo station wagon for our short trip to Kew, as they called it.

"Believe me, I'm going to. As soon as I'm done with this premiere," he said. He hadn't told me anything about it. I usually had no problem about him changing his appearance, but between his silence about his family and now to learn he'd been thinking about cutting his beautiful hair… a little heads up would have been nice.

"We need to work on our communication," I mumbled, not wanting to make a scene inside the car, but wanting him to know I was irritated nonetheless.

"I was going to tell you, but it was just a thought," he said from the front passenger seat.

I dropped the subject. I was determined to enjoy this day. The weather was sunny and not too hot, and I knew the gardens would be beautiful. Plus, I was really enjoying getting to know Pam. She had a strange sense of humor, and could deliver lines with the stoicism of a pro. She should have done stand up.

We spent a lazy morning strolling through the gardens, taking pictures and admiring. I was definitely the tourist, but Pam and Eric were gracious enough to take and pose for my pictures, respectively. Eric told Pam about how we'd met, with me growling at my garden, which made Pam hoot with laughter.

We had a quick bite to eat at an outside café, so we could keep enjoying the beautiful weather. It was a weekday, and even in England that meant that Kew Gardens wasn't too busy. I was sort of people watching, since I knew eventually this would also be my home.

"Gosh!" I said out loud as the realization hit me. We'd begun the paperwork necessary, but nothing compared to actually being in the country that would be my home soon.

"What's wrong?" Pam asked, since she was the one between bites.

"I'm going to live here," I said, still looking around.

Eric's hand landed on my cheek. He gave me a silent smile and I returned it. When he finally swallowed he said, "Do you think you will like it?" His accent had become more pronounced since we had arrived.

"Yeah… I mean, I'd like to see exactly where we'd live, but…" I drifted. From the corner of my eye I could have sworn I'd seen a camera flash. I ignored it, but Eric didn't.

Before he had a chance to even tell us to get moving, we were surrounded by half a dozen people with cameras. Large cameras with giant lenses. How many pictures had they already taken of us? Who told them we were here? What in the world was the fascination?

Flash, flash, flash. It was unrelenting. I was blinded.

"Please, guys, just let us finish our lunch in peace," Eric said, holding his hand up in front of us and putting his arm around me protectively. That left Pam unprotected. A photographer stepped into her, not looking where he was going, and hurt her arm.

"Hey!" she cried.

Soon thereafter we were surrounded by park police and employees, trying to help get us out of the melee of photographers. They escorted us to a waiting police car and took us back to the parking lot as fast as they could.

"Sorry about that, Mr. Northman. Are you all right?" the chief asked us as they delivered us to Pam's car.

Pam and I were so shaken, and she was hurt on top of everything else, that we didn't answer the man. Eric answered, "One of those men hurt my sister's arm. We're not sure which of them it was."

"Is it bleeding, miss?" the chief asked Pam.

Her eyes flashed with anger, but she reeled it in. After all, it wasn't the chief's fault. There were people with cameras everywhere in the gardens. One really couldn't tell the botanical aficionado from the paparazzi. "I am not bleeding, but I will definitely have a nasty bruise."

"Would you like to press charges? We can stop by the barracks…"

"No. But thank you. I would like to go home now," Pam interrupted. She was starting to look defeated, and if she felt anything like me, she was starting to come off the adrenaline high.

Eric drove us back to the hotel. Pam called Amelia to pick her up because she was too shaken to drive from the hotel back to her house. Nothing that Eric did soothed her, and I was terrified that this had all been my fault.

Once again I'd hurt the people I cared about, except this time it was physical. Pam had gotten hurt because of me. How could I live like that? How could I justify it this time?

**TBC**

**A/N**: I thank all the FF readers who like my stories so much. AAD officially got its 1000th review, and to celebrate I wrote "Eric Reads _Twilight_." It was something sweet and fun to do… and a little naughty. Hope you like it!


	17. Couple's Therapy

**A/N: **I've never done a POV from someone other than Eric or Sookie, so this is new to me. But both Eric and Sookie need a dash of common sense that's sorely lacking. This chapter is from Amelia's POV.

* * *

**Chapter 17 – Couple's Therapy**

When I arrived at that hotel room, it looked like a scene from a film noir. All the characters were sitting immobile, displaying various states of angst on their pretty faces. I knew the Northmans were drama queens, since I lived with one of them, but I didn't know that it had transferred to the newcomer as well.

"What is going on here?" I asked from the front door with my arms on my hips. I meant business. These people needed to snap out of it.

Eric spoke first. "Pam got hurt by a photographer and Sookie is blaming herself."

I stared at him blankly. My brain simply refused to make sense of his words. "What do you mean?" I looked at Sookie, who was sitting on a chair by a window, wrapped around herself. "What do you mean, Sookie? Why are you blaming yourself?"

My words had the unintended effect of making her burst into a bout of crying. I had the distinct impression that she'd been holding back the tears until I'd said those words. What the bloody hell?

"Come here, woman. You and I need to talk," I said, walking to her with purpose and pulling her out of the chair. I took Sookie with me to the bedroom and shut the door. I made her sit on the bed and went in search for a box of tissues.

"Explain. Why are you blaming yourself for something that someone else did?" I said, sitting next to her.

Sookie looked at me like I was the one making no sense, as if I should know everything that was going on in that pretty head of hers. "Don't you know?"

"Don't I know what? That you and Eric are getting married?" I asked. I was sure that was why the paparazzi had been set loose. What was more newsworthy than their favorite British son finding an American bride? Particularly after the heartache of Carrie's passing. Everyone was excited.

"No, I mean the way my husband died. Everyone thinks I'm out to kill Eric," Sookie sobbed.

"Are you out of your mind? What the hell is wrong with you? Everyone knows what happened to your husband, and everyone thinks it's romantic that you and Eric are both widowed. Why would anyone think you're out to kill Eric? Is this because of what happened at the museum?" I asked. I knew I was bombarding her with questions. I didn't need answers to all of them, just one or two.

"You know about that?" She sniffled into a tissue.

"Don't answer a question with a question. Didn't your mother tell you that it is rude? Answer me, Sookie. Are you blaming yourself for what happened in the museum?" I pressed again. This woman was going to give me answers, and she was not going to break Eric's heart if I had any say in the matter.

Sookie let out a few more sobs. "Yes."

"But we all know that woman was demented. Nobody wants to believe the bad stuff. They would rather see you have a fairy tale wedding, particularly in this country. Why have you been pushing Eric away? Explain," I demanded.

"I haven't," she said weakly.

"Yeah, right. Eric tells Pam everything, and Pam tells me everything. So, go on. Do you want to be with Eric, or not? You accepted his proposal," I said eyeing the ring.

Sookie looked down at it too. "I want to be with him, but everything is always against us. I didn't realize that my past was going to become an obstacle."

"You are a very self-centered person, aren't you?"

She looked at me wide-eyed and hurt. "What?"

"Do you really think that this is about you? Hasn't it crossed your mind that Eric has been a famous actor for quite a while now? He's been dealing with paparazzi for many years. He's been dealing with the press for many years. This isn't new, and as long as he's in the public eye, it will not stop. He made the sacrifice of finding a job so that he could take himself away from the limelight. What else do you want? His head on a platter?" I got exasperated, stood up and started pacing. I understood Sookie was a bit damaged, but this was beyond ridiculous.

"I… I don't," Sookie stuttered. I could see I had stumped her. She frowned, starting to get mad. Good. She needed to feel something other than self-pity. "Sometimes I wonder, Amelia. Lately he's been keeping things from me. Did you know that I just found out he has a whole large family? He never told me about them. And just today he mentioned to Pam that he'd been thinking of cutting his hair, but he never said anything to me. It's such a silly thing, why didn't he tell me about it?"

I put my hands on my hips. I was getting a rise out of her, and she was beginning to talk. This was good. "Perhaps he's scared witless of the things you'll think if he gives you too much information. After all, you've only been together for three months. I'm sure there's still a lot more you need to learn about each other." I sighed. Why did I always have to be the voice of reason? "But you're right that he should have told you about his family. In trying to not overwhelm you, he's only created a problem."

Sookie put her hands up in the air and shrugged. I took the gesture to mean two things. One, she was right and Eric should have been more open. And two, she didn't know what to do about it. But I did. I walked to the door and called Eric.

"Get your ass in here," I said, making a quick motion with my hand and shutting the door as soon as he was in the bedroom. I'd tell Pam everything later, but for now the two lovebirds needed the illusion of privacy while I did damage control. "Why didn't you tell Sookie about the family?"

Eric's eyes widened and he looked at Sookie. "I am so sorry about that, Sookie. I already told you I made a mistake. I hoped you could forgive me."

I was confused. "So you already apologized?" I asked Eric.

"Yes, I did. I'm so sorry, Sookie," he repeated. "I don't know why I was feeling scared about what you might think, and I can tell you that I'm still apprehensive that my family will speak about Carrie when you finally meet them, but I should trust that you will be fine."

"Okay," I put my hands up. Nobody else needed to talk except me. "Sookie, will you stop blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong? Do you understand that the world doesn't revolve around you? If it did, then we would all be out to get you, because there is plenty of shit we could blame on others."

"I'm… I," Sookie stuttered.

"Yes or no, Sookie dear."

"Yes, I understand."

"And as for you, mister, I thought you were better than to keep things from the person you love. Do you tell her you love her?" I asked him, knowing exactly how he'd let his first marriage go south.

"Every day," he answered.

"Not good enough. You have to tell Sookie constantly."

"He does," Sookie said, coming to his defense. This was good news.

"Good! Now, I don't want to hear that you canceled the wedding," I pointed at Sookie, "or that you did something stupid like fail to communicate important and relevant information to the woman you've chosen for a wife," I pointed at Eric.

"Yes, ma'am," Eric said, the smart ass.

"Thanks, Amelia," Sookie said. I immediately liked her better than I had, simply because she'd swallowed her wounded pride and thanked me for telling her she was being a self-centered child.

"Now I'm taking my woman home," I said and went to get Pam.

"I could see it in her eyes the minute it happened," Pam said when we were in the car driving back to our flat. "I could see Sookie retreating into a shell. It was almost painful."

"She's has a fragile composition, emotionally. Sookie's much more delicate than one would think, and then she spent several years married to someone who was emotionally abusive. That must have completely destroyed her. She needs tough love, and that isn't something that your brother knows how to do." I looked at Pam. She was nodding.

"Sookie might just be the kind of person to take a stranger's counsel to heart before she listens to her own family," Pam said. "I tried to tell her that it hadn't been her fault, and Eric tried to explain that the incident had nothing to do with her, but she wouldn't listen."

"I guess we'll find out how things went when we see them tomorrow." I dared to hope that we would end up planning a spring wedding. Perhaps Pam would catch the bug and finally accept to be my wife, if only as civil partners.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Oh, my goodness! You girls are breathtaking!" Sookie exclaimed when she saw Pam and me. We were wearing the same halter silk chiffon dress, except mine was a dark purple, and Pam's was light pink.

I stared at Sookie surprised. This was not the same girl I'd seen the day before. "Thank you," I stammered out finally, right after Pam said it. "So I take it we have a wedding to plan?"

"Of course! We…" she suddenly looked shy. This was more like Sookie. She looked shy but happy, though. I'd take it. "You gave us a lot to talk and think about, Amelia. I owe you one, big time."

We had met at their hotel room, since we were all going to the premiere together in the same limousine. All three of us girls were waiting for the star to come out. Typical, too. Eric was always the one running behind.

"He must be fixing his hair," Pam said rolling her eyes in mock annoyance.

Sookie flashed a lovely smile, like she was privy to a secret we were not. When Eric finally emerged from the bedroom, we saw why. The man had cut his hair. What a difference! He looked good enough to eat, and sexy too.

"Holy shit!" Pam said beside me.

"Do you like?" he asked, walking directly to his lovely fiancée. "I had it cut this morning. Almost gave Sookie a heart attack when I returned."

"It's such a big change," Sookie tried to defend herself, still wearing a wide smile that she couldn't contain.

I continued watching the two lovebirds the rest of that night. I could see the love oozing out of both. If they could get over the major stuff, they would be a very happy couple. It was obvious that Sookie had begun the healing process much before I'd intervened. The events of the day before had set her back, but not irreparably. I felt sorry for the girl, because she seemed to be a gentle, thoughtful soul. Eric would be the perfect man for someone like her. He was just as gentle and thoughtful, but he could also be tough if the occasion warranted it. I just wasn't sure he knew exactly when to be the tough guy. No matter. Sookie and Eric now had us. Pam and I would see that this couple was united in marriage sooner rather than later, and then we'd keep an eye on them.

There's something to be said for the role of family in keeping people together.

**TBC**


	18. I Won't Fear Love

**A/N: **I must thank faithful reader Ellecia who pointed me in the right direction. Since I'm from the U.S., I have no idea whatsoever where one would go to retire in Scotland (only that I would like to do it someday). So beautiful Elleciasaid: Fife! I chose the most likely suspect (I mean town) within Fife. And the rest is a story…

* * *

**Chapter 18 – I Won't Fear Love**

Now I knew why the Vikings were attracted to the sea. Eric and I stood on the ramparts of Ravenscraig Castle in Kirkcaldy. It was the town where Eric's mom, Sophie, had retired. We had spent a very pleasant evening getting to know each other. She reminded me so much of my own mom, except with light blue eyes and red hair. She was still a beauty in her mid-fifties, with a contagious smile just like Eric's. She had made me feel so welcome in her home, so at ease, so loved… My heart swelled with happiness, knowing that soon she would be my other mom.

The next morning she had practically thrown us out the door, telling Eric to show me Scotland. He had borrowed her car and we set out to have a date. Ravenscraig Castle was breathtaking. I'd never seen a real medieval castle like this one. It was an artillery fort overlooking the North Sea. In the mid-morning sun I could feel the allure of the sea, even in this landscape, so much different than the one I was used to in Florida.

"Sookie?" Eric pressed his warm chest against my back, threading his arms over my chest and middle to hug me tight against him. I melted into his embrace, wanting this moment to last for so much longer than forever.

"Yes, Eric?" I asked, putting my arms over his to make the hug complete. I felt a kiss on my crown.

"Do you like this?" he asked, unsure of my answer.

"It is absolutely gorgeous. I've never seen anything like it."

"Would you like to go for a ride?" he asked. I simply nodded, turning my head a little and closing my eyes with a serene smile on my face. Eric turned me around, and I felt the need to open my eyes again. The love in his eyes filled me like nothing else could.

I'd been a fool to let my fear get the best of me. Thank God for Amelia. She'd talked some sense into me, and she'd been right: I _had_ been acting like a self-centered child, not taking into account anybody else's feelings but my own. I let my own fear cripple me, instead of reaching out to the love of my life. He could help. He would help.

More than that, because my fear had been completely unfounded. The next day we saw our pictures on the paper, and the caption was downright sappy: _"Eric Northman and his bride-to-be, American beauty Sookie Stackhouse, out for a stroll with Eric's sister at Kew Gardens. The happy couple plan to marry next year."_ That was it. No accusations, nothing bad at all. They'd called me a beauty. The photo was absolutely striking. At some point they'd caught us walking in front of several thousand late summer flowers, Eric and I were looking into each other's eyes both with loving smiles and holding hands, and Eric's other arm was draped lazily over Pam's shoulder, who was smiling and looking at us. It made me wish I'd know who'd taken the photo because I wanted a copy to put in our new house. I kept that page of the newspaper.

Eric drove north of Kirkcaldy and showed me what that part of the Kingdom of Fife looked like. My heart ached at so much beauty. How did people live here, waking up every day to see this? The verdant rolling hills, the parceled farms that dotted the landscape, the fields of yellow flowers. It was so much unlike anything I'd ever seen. We stopped at a tavern to have lunch, and I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. It looked like I'd stepped back in time several centuries. People at the tavern recognized us and said some pleasant things before letting us eat in peace. We didn't have to ask. They simply knew to be polite.

Eric held my hand as we drove all the way back to his mom's. She was happy to see us and was getting ready to start making dinner. That's how long we'd been gone.

"Pam and I are cooking, and we are about to show off. So you two go wash up and we will call you. Now scoot!" she made a motion with her hands sending us upstairs to our room.

"I hope you're hungry. When those two show off it usually means tons of food," Eric said chuckling, following me up the stairs and touching my bottom.

"Eric, quit it!" I hissed. We reached our bedroom and as soon as we closed the door he pinned me against it with his whole body.

"I've wanted you all day, my darling," he said, and began trailing kisses down my neck. I put my hands on his sides, holding on to the fabric of his shirt.

"I wanted you all day too," I whispered shyly. I'd just begun to use my words to make love to Eric. He was teaching me the power of words during lovemaking. Of course, at that particular moment we'd have to be quiet.

We made quick work of our clothes, falling on the bed on our sides, looking at each other. I wrapped my leg over his waist and my arms around his neck. Eric angled himself so he could enter me, and in a frenzy of kisses we were soon joined. He held me tight against him, and when I arched my back he ducked his head, cupping a breast to bring it to his hot mouth. He let go too soon.

"Look at me, Sookie, look at me my love," he said, almost desperate for me to comply. I brought my eyes to his. "I love you, Sookie."

"I love you, Eric."

We gazed into each other, seeing our souls laid bare and open, our love sifting inside and uniting us more than just physically. He was my husband. Paper or no paper declaring us married, Eric was mine as much as I was his. Our love ignited and consumed us. Even in that tiny bed in that small house that wasn't ours, we found each other and our bliss.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Because of how busy Eric and I would be while we got our affairs in order and got ready for our move to Colchester, Sophie and Pam offered to help me put together the wedding in Scotland. That night during dinner we talked about venues, dates, even flowers. The most important part was religion. Eric was Anglican, I was Catholic. The two religions were close enough that I didn't mind having an Anglican ceremony, and it would be extremely easier too, since I didn't have to be baptized in order to marry Eric.

Talking of the church arrangements brought it all home for me. I was really doing this. I was doing this the right way, in front of God and all our family, and we'd have a celebration afterwards. I looked at Eric sitting next to me and put my hand on his cheek, giving him a wide smile. This time he responded to me, instead of the other way around. He turned his head a little and kissed my wrist, before taking my hand and kissing my fingers. I knew Sophie and Pam were watching us, and I didn't care. They were allowed to see how much I loved Eric, and how much he loved me.

We settled many of the preliminaries, and then Eric and I would visit for Christmas so we could do some more work.

"You will have a beautiful wedding, don't you worry. Now, give me Charlie's number and email address because we need to have a mom-to-mom talk," Sophie said, grabbing her planner. She'd bought it especially, she'd said. I had the feeling that I was merely expected to show up to the wedding. Everything else would be taken care of.

"You're not allowed to change any of these things, Mum," Pam said pointing at a list she was making. We would have to check availability, but settled for a date in May. That would give us enough time to get settled in Colchester before getting married and going on a honeymoon.

"Oh, shush Pamela! Mums are allowed to change anything they want," Sophie waved her hand at Pam. I smiled. There really was nothing she could change that would upset me. It wasn't as if either of them would pick ugly things. I would have to rely a lot on Sophie and Pam to help me, and they were very enthusiastic, so Eric and I just watched and waited until one or both would turn their heads to us to ask a question.

The next day Sophie had a late summer party at her house. She had invited her side of the family, which included a sister and a brother, plus their spouses, children and a few grandchildren. Eric's dad's side of the family was in England, and we would have to meet them during Christmas when we returned. At least I was now being introduced into the family as I should have been. I felt a sense of comfort, of belonging.

Nobody said anything about Carrie that upset me. Eric's Uncle Andrew approached me. "He looks extremely happy," he said of Eric. "He suffered a lot when Carrie passed, and we were all very concerned about him. But look at him now. He's the happiest I've seen him since he was a little boy."

I was looking, alright. Eric was running around the small lawn with the kids, letting himself be tackled to the ground. I bit my lower lip as I smiled. One of these days he would play a similar game on a similar lawn, but with our own children.

Our departure from Scotland was bittersweet. We were coming back at Christmas, and my family would join us to celebrate the holiday all of us together. Still, after meeting Sophie, Pam, Amelia, and the rest of Eric's family, leaving them was hard. They were easy to love too. Just like Eric.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The hot and humid Florida weather felt welcoming after spending several days in temperate Scotland. My mom and I walked in the early morning with Baloo, not talking about much of anything.

"Are you mad?" I asked. I wasn't sure why I thought that.

"Sookie, honey, why in the world would I be mad?"

"Because we're having the wedding in Scotland and Sophie and Pam are taking over," I answered, because it was obvious.

"I guess I neglected to tell you that Sophie and I talked for two hours yesterday, about everything and your wedding. I'm very much a part of this, and your decision to have the wedding in Scotland was the most sensible. It's less of a hassle to fly us up there, than to fly all of Eric's family down here. The expense alone would kill you. So stop fretting so much. All we want is to see you and Eric happy," she said and took my hand, squeezing it tightly.

Eric passed us, running in his usual Under Armour shirt that showed off his incredible body. I could be shallow when it came to how beautiful and sexy I thought he was. I still loved him very much. I whistled at him, sending my mom into giggles and making him turn around and run backwards, if only to give me a huge smile and a wink.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I dream about my life often, nowadays. I guess it comes with the territory: the things I did, the time I wasted, how things turned out just fine in the end. We had a wonderful wedding, a beautiful reception, a gorgeous honeymoon that took us through all of Europe. When we returned, we didn't go back to a home in Colchester. We went back to our home in Florida. We'd built a new house where the other two had stood, with a larger pool. I'd been selfish to allow Eric to give up his acting, and he'd been too scared of losing me to stand up to me and my fears. It had all come to nothing at all. The minute I realized that, I told Eric to decline the position at the university, to call his manager, and start reading new scripts for movies.

I remember that day like it was yesterday. He'd eyed cautiously, trying to see if I meant it. I told him I was eternally grateful for the sacrifice and humbled and touched, but I loved him too much to allow him to give up the job that he liked the best. That same day he'd received several new scripts for his perusal.

We reached an agreement that if working on location would take him away for longer than a week that I would visit often or join him. That's how we ended up conceiving in Quebec. And giving birth in Florida.

"Mrs. Northman? We're ready when you are," said a nurse, bringing me back to the present. It was silly of her to say, since I'd been prepped for a cesarean section.

I looked at Eric to my right. He'd stayed beside me while I napped. At some point they'd given him a set of scrubs, a cap for his head, and something to put over his shoes, along with a mask.

"Are you ready, my love?" he asked.

I squeezed his hand. He was nervous. I was shaking. I didn't know what to expect, and I was a bit early to give birth. The doctor had assured me time and time again that everything was perfect and that nothing was wrong.

The nurse wheeled me in my bed to the operating room. The anesthesiologist asked me my weight, and another nurse joined us. Eric had been made to wait outside while they prepped me for surgery. First I moved to the operating bed, holding my belly with one hand, guarding it. Then I sat at the edge of the bed, shaking like a leaf with nerves. The kind nurse held me tight against her to stop the shakes, while the anesthesiologist inserted a needle in my back. It took no more than a minute, and I was made to lie down again. I felt my legs tingle and go numb while they put a curtain from my chest down, and they called Eric to come sit beside me. He'd brought the camera.

"Don't take a picture of my guts, okay? I don't think I could look at those," I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Eric smiled one of his contagious smiles and caressed my face. He leaned over and kissed me softly on the lips. "I love you."

"I love you," I said back.

The doctor explained what she was doing so I would understand and not be concerned when I felt her tugging at my body.

"I see a head," she said as I felt a giant tug that moved all of me. "It's a girl!" she announced, as a sob escaped me. I already knew I was having a girl. I couldn't see or hear much of anything, and Eric was watching everything they did to our little girl. Finally I heard a tiny angry wail, and I knew my baby breathed. _Clara_.

The nurses called out a time of birth (5:37 p.m.), a weight (six pounds, one ounce), and a length (nineteen inches).

"It's a boy!" my doctor announced after another tug. I already knew I was having a boy too. _Alexander_. Born at 5:39 p.m., weighing five pounds, thirteen ounces, also nineteen inches long like his sister.

They brought me my babies swaddled and clean so I could see them and kiss them. My babies were perfect, bright pink and healthy. Eric went crazy taking pictures of his children.

Our family was now complete. Our dreams had come true. What had started as impossibility turned into reality. A beautiful famous actor had moved next to my house and changed my world. I never had nightmares anymore. I was healed.

**¡El Fin!**

**A/N: Please join us this coming Saturday, March 12, 2011, at 4pm EST for a chat about "Good Fences." If you're interested please visit the Fangreaders blog at www (dot) fangreaders (dot) blogspot (dot) com ahead of time and ask the girls you want to join. If you like what I do, please alert me as an author. I will be working on a new FF coming up within the next two weeks.**

**As you all know, I love all my readers. Thank you so much for sticking for this little ride.**


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